


Sky's Still Blue

by thegirlonpeetamellark



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlonpeetamellark/pseuds/thegirlonpeetamellark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Every day it gets a little easier to breathe and the pain from the war loosens its grip on my heart just a bit. I start to think less about the past and more about how Peeta makes me happier than I ever thought possible" Lemon/Pre-Epilogue</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I'm living some sort of half life. I'm breathing and sleeping and eating just enough to get by, to continue being physically alive. My heart continues to beat inside my chest, under the scarred skin, like some sort of haunting reminder. A reminder that after everything I've endured I was not one of the lucky ones who had the benefit of succumbing to the quiet, peacefulness of death.

I've been thinking a lot like this lately, about my dad, Prim, Finnick, Rue, the list goes on. Instead of focusing on on my own pain, the overwhelming guilt and despair and loneliness that their deaths summon in me, I almost...envy them.

They are gone, at peace, and away from this world where nothing can hurt them anymore. They don't have to keep up this hoax I've been putting on since getting back to District 12. Getting out of bed everyday, forcing food into my mouth I don't want to eat, and trying to see some sort of reasoning as to why I was the unlucky one who survived. I try to figure out why I have to keep living a life that only brings you pain and more pain, and at best a reprieve for a while before it's ripped away again.

I stay like this for what seems like forever, but is probably a few weeks, maybe a month. I guess it's the debt of obligation I feel towards the poor souls who just seem more concerned for me than I can stand. I hate that they feel like they have to take care of me. I've already ruined enough people's lives, can't they see I'm just not worth it? But because they do care, because they just seem so earnest and dead set on seeing me, if not get better, at least not self destruct, I make an effort. It's the weakness in me.

Greasy Sae and her self-appointed role as my house-keeper keeps me from wasting away. She cooks all my meals, tidies up around a house that is much too large for only one person to live in, and even washes and braids my hair like my mother used to when I was little. Haymitch and his geese and his alcohol occasionally all make unexpected visits where he blabbers on and on about something I'm not interested in. I guess he thinks he's helping, keeping me company, trying to get back to some sense of normalcy, but it's just all too easy to shut him out when he's not patronizing me or calling me sweetheart.

Even people from around the District will stop by once in a while with a gift or kind word. Their visits almost break me. Some are familiar faces from my trading days around town who have migrated back to rebuild and some are just total strangers. It's hard to stomach. I guess they think they owe me a debt of gratitude, as if I single-handedly took down the capitol. I try to smile and be polite, but it's mostly just awkward. I still don't have even an ounce of charm.

It is Peeta though that is my complete undoing. It is always Peeta. I try and fight it. I see it coming from a mile away, like a freight train moving towards me in slow motion. I have plenty of time to fight it and get away, but my feet stay rooted to the spot. I am helpless.

It is some time after he planted the primroses outside in garden. I assume Greasy Sae invited him over for meals. Or maybe Haymitch suggested it to him, knowing what a mess I was. But part of me feels that he is doing this on his own, that he has his own agenda. He shows up for breakfast most mornings, brings freshly baked bread and cheese buns to dinner later on, and even helps Greasy Sae clean up. He makes himself a constant presence in my life.

I know what he's doing. He is doing what he has always done: take care of me. Beside the wave of guilt and self-loathing I struggle with knowing that despite still trying to recover from his hijacking he is the one looking after me, I fight to try and suppress all the emotions that Peeta Mellark evokes out of me. His dependable presence at breakfast every morning, his genuine smile when he comes back in the evening with fresh baked goods, his watchful eyes studying me when he thinks I'm not looking, they remind me of how good he is. They remind me of what a caring, honest, genuine person he is.

It stirs up emotion inside of me I am not even close to knowing how to handle. It feels like an odd and somewhat nauseating combination of hope, desire, insecurity, passion, doubt, pain, and something else I can't quite identify.

And this, this rampage of emotions Peeta's mere presence has engulfed me in is not part of my plan. It is not part of the half life I decided I was destined to live as some sort of homage to my dead love ones who are free from earthly pains. The half life that keeps me from feeling the pain and agony and everything else that a real person has to endure. I thought I could keep going at the rate I was, but Peeta Mellark has an effect on me I can neither control or explain.

It becomes like my own personal brand of therapy.

Even more so than when I start baking again. I get to her house every morning before she gets up. I help Greasy Sae make breakfast or clean up around the house while she works. It's always the same. I hear her coming down the steps and my heart does a funny little lurch in my chest as I try to compose myself. I seat myself at my usual spot at the table before she appears and greet her with a 'Good Morning' that on the best days she returns with a less than sincere 'Morning' and on the others with a half grunt.

I don't try and make conversation initially. I know that what she needs isn't someone running their mouth 24/7 to try and make up for her lack of communication. I do let myself study her on occasion though. If she's momentarily distracted I let my eyes drink in the sight of her. I note the bags under her eyes (she's not sleeping much), the pajamas she didn't bother to get changed out of (she's going to stay in bed all day), her much slender than usual frame (she's not eating enough) and her matted hair (she's not taking care of herself).

I know I can't be the one to magically pull her out of this though. Only Katniss can be the one who makes that decision. So for now I settle on just being around, eating breakfast in the morning, bringing fresh goods back in the evening, and stopping by when I can just to help around the house. I don't want to push her into coming back before she's ready. I'm more than fine with her just allowing me to constantly be around.

As she works through her own demons and struggles I do the same.

The more time I spend with her the better I feel. It feels like the tracker jacker poison is slowly being purged from my mind and body the more time I spend in this new life, this new routine I have made for myself that essentially revolves around Katniss Everdeen. A small part is still there, a part that can still cause episodes and visions that can range from mild to severe and that I fear will always be there no matter what I do, but hopefully in time will fade.

I do everything to work on being able to control it, to control how I respond and react when one unexpectedly hits, determined not to let the Capitol's poison have that kind of control over me for the rest of my life. I've found that being around Katniss is the best thing I can possibly do. The more time I spend with her the more I'm able to remind myself that she is good and innocent and not trying to kill me. If those shiny memories of Katniss as a mutt who killed my family hit I take slow, deep breaths and think about the quiet, sweet girl who thanked me so shyly when I brought her cheese buns and who looks so lost and tortured on a daily basis I know that she is just as broken as I am.

We so easily fall into this pattern of being around each other without actually being with each other that it catches me totally off guard one day when this routine changes completely. I had gotten so used to breakfasts eaten in silence and the evenings in front of the fire not exchanging more than a few words that when she is actually the one to initiate some kind of conversation I'm momentarily at a lost as to what to say.

"I think I'm going to go hunting today," she says as we are finishing up breakfast.

I look up at her in amazement. I notice Greasy Sae freeze in the kitchen, intensely listening and afraid to move as if any sudden movements will scare Katniss back into her shell. I notice Katniss fiddling with her fork, the nervous way she is biting down on her bottom lip, and how her eyes are glued to her plate. It's like she isn't exactly talking to anyone in particular, just merely forced herself to announce her intentions before breakfast was over and she lost her nerve to do it.

"That's a great idea," I finally manage to get out before adding on a whim "Can I come?"

She looks up at me in surprise. When she sees my dumb grin and laughter in my eyes and realizes I'm just joking she breaks out a genuine smile that literally makes my heart do another lurch in my chest. It's the first real smile of hers in longer than I can remember. It feels me with such a rush of happiness that I can't wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the day. I forgot how much I love her smile.

"You'd scare away all the game," she explains with another grin that fills me with hope; hope that maybe she isn't lost forever and can find her way back to me.

"I think it's a great idea," Greasy Sae adds, "We haven't had fresh meat in so long. I'll cook a feast tonight."

As she disappears upstairs to get ready I help Greasy Sae clean up and try to contain my ridiculous amount of excitement at the morning's developments. She comes back down dressed in her old hunting gear and I can see that she looks a little unsure and hesitant.

I give her an encouraging smile, hoping to calm any nerves or second thoughts she might be having about returning to the woods today.

We exit the front door and head down the front steps. We are about to part ways, her towards the fence into the woods and me into town where my family's bakery is being rebuilt, when I stop her with a question.

"What made you want to go hunting again?" I ask before she turns away.

She looks at me, studying me carefully for a moment, before replying. "I don't know," she shrugs, "Dr. Aurelius told me I need to go through the motions. Figured this was a good start."

I nod, stuffing my hands in my pocket and literally fighting myself not to lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before she leaves.

One step at a time.

"Have a good day Katniss. I'll see you tonight." I turn and make my way into town before she can respond.

I walk towards the familiar fence in a daze. It feels so strange to be out of the house and doing something so normal. It's almost as if I'm back in my old life, ready to spend the day hunting and making sure that my mom and Prim have enough to eat for the week. I slip into the woods and walk past my old meeting spot with Gale without much thought. Gale is like a fleeting memory now. Other than when I first heard about his fancy government job in District 2 I haven't thought much about him. The war changed everything between us. I don't think we could ever go back to the way we were.

I walk without really paying attention to where I'm going but I guess my body has already chosen my destination for me. I get to the lake just as the sun peaks out from the clouds on this pleasantly warm fall day. I sit on the rock near the water that I was at with a camera crew not that long ago.

I put down my bow and arrow and just sit quietly for a long time. I look at the glistening surface of the lake's water, tempted to strip down and jump in. I relish the time alone in the familiar setting to try and clear my head. I spent all of last night tossing and turning in my sleep. Besides not wanting to endure another hellish round of nightmares I find myself thinking about Peeta more and more.

I've slowly come to accept that just his comforting presence in my life these past few weeks, despite my best efforts to shut out the world and wallow in my own pain, has been enough to pull me from the darkness. I still don't know what I'm feeling, but I know that he still means something to me. He is like a reminder that there is some good in this world and I don't think I'm ready to throw away all hope that I can enjoy it and maybe even be happy one day.

I know though that I have a responsibility to not let the deaths of my loved ones be in vain. I need them to mean something and I need to always remember every person who I loved and lost, every person who fought beside me so we could one day live without the cruelty of the Capitol and the barbarity of the Hunger Games.

I fiddle with some plants at the base of the rock. My mind flashes back to the exact picture in my dad's old book. I remember every detail about this particular plant. I smile. After all this time, I still remember.

The idea comes to me and I feel a jolt of excitement. For the first time in a long time I feel passionate about something.

I grab my bow with a new sense of purpose, determined to make some good kills so we can enjoy a big dinner tonight.

We work on the book almost everyday.

During the day she hunts and I bake. We meet back up for dinner and then afterwards we curl up in the living room and get to work. It feels good to draw again. It helps me feel like myself, like the person I was before the Capitol's hijacking. It gives us a sense of purpose.

It makes me glad to see Katniss not just going through the motions anymore. She is much better off than she was a month ago but she's still trying to work through some issues. I can tell how much this means to her. She had that fire in her eyes when she first told me about the idea; that look she gets when she truly cares about something and makes me realize why I'm so drawn to this fiery, passionate girl and why I always have been.

I finish my drawing of Rue, checking it over and contemplating adding any finishing touches.

"It's beautiful," she whispers from over my shoulder.

"Thanks," I shoot her a smile as I hand it over to be added to the book.

She takes a deep breath and I can see that despite how important this is for her it's also really hard. It practically kills her to turn the page for a new person to be added. It's almost like she feels like it's a dishonor to them to simply flip past their page, like they are nothing more now than mere memories that can be acknowledged or ignored when we choose to.

I put my arm around her shoulder and give her a gentle squeeze in reassurance. It feels good to be able to touch her again, to be physically close to her. There was a time after my hijacking when I was starting to get back to normal that I was worried I would never have this opportunity again. That I would forever be banned from getting close to her in fear that I would snap and hurt her or worse.

"Who's next?" I whisper relishing the feel of her body against mine.

"I don't know," she says before adding, "Oh, wait, Haymitch dropped off this envelope today. He said it was important.

She rips open the envelope and pulls out its contents: 2 pictures and scrap of paper.

She reads the paper first, "Finnick Odair Jr. Born October 17th. Love Annie."

The impact of the words hit us as we look at the pictures of the blonde hair, blue eyed infant. He is grabbing at his feet and smiling in one picture and sound asleep in the other.

"Oh my god," Katniss whispers covering her mouth.

I feel a wave of emotion hit me like a punch to the gut. My mind immediately goes back to that time in the capital, running through the sewers, trying to get away from the mutts, struggling with my memories as Finnick sacrificed himself without a seconds hesitation so we could go on.

The shame, guilt, and agony over this child growing up without his father almost makes me sick.

Before I have time to cope with my own emotions though Katniss dissolves into a sobbing mess at my side. She covers her face and buries her head into my chest as she lets the emotion pour out of her. I don't know if she's really let herself break down like this since we came back to District 12. I rub her back and hold onto her as I whisper comforting words into her ear.

She eventually quiets down some and we just hold onto each other knowing that tonight we got another painful reminder of the effects of the war. I kiss her forehead and wipe the tears from her face.

"Can you stay the night?" She whispers so softly I'm at first convinced that I imagined it.

"Of course," I assure her, glad for the suggestion.

With my free hand I place the pictures inside the book and close it, putting it aside. I stand and gather her in my arms. As I carry her upstairs to the bedroom an odd feeling that I've done this before hits. I bring her into her room and place her on her bed before bringing her a pair of sweats and a shirt to change into.

I sit on the edge of her bed as she changes, looking the other way to give her some privacy.

"I've carried you up to your room like this when you were asleep once. Real or Not Real?"

"Real," she answers and her voice his horse from all the crying. "It was after I hurt my foot."

I nod, remembering that day clearly now, how she asked me to stay with her.

"I can sleep downstairs on the couch or..." I trail off, unsure what the parameters are for our new relationship. I remember us sleeping in the same bed on the train before the Quell, but things have changed. Especially after my hijacking I don't know how comfortable she is with the idea of me being that close.

"Sleep here, with me," she says as more of a commandment than a question.

I nod, and slip out of my jeans and shoes. I slip into bed ready to keep a respectable difference but she curls up to my side and rests her head on my shoulder while draping an arm across my chest.

I try to relax, but I'm all too aware of how close we are. We haven't shared this level of intimacy since my hijacking and it feels strange, but good. The familiar smell of her hair and the warmth of her body and her steady breathing are all too intoxicating.

I drift off to sleep after a few minutes.

Since the night we found out about Finnick and Annie's son Peeta has spent every night in my bed at my side. It has helped me leave behind the days of despair and darkness that plagued me right after the war. I no longer feel so broken that I can't see the point of moving on because what makes me not want to give up is there at my side every morning now.

What initially started as just wanting his presence as a source of comfort after learning about Finnick's son that he will never know, has turned into the one thing in my life that keeps me grounded. Sleeping in Peeta's arms keeps the nightmares from coming every night and even on the nights that they do come he is there to wake me and hold me until the terror is over.

Every day it gets a little easier to breathe and the pain from the war and the games and all the lives lost loosens its grip on my heart just a bit. I start to think less about the past and my struggles and more about how Peeta makes me happier than I thought would ever be possible after all we've been through. Whether he's trying to make me laugh or smiling at how fast I eat his cheese buns or wrapping his arms around me after a day apart like he never wants to let go, I realize my feelings for him are growing stronger every day.

We're sitting in front of the fire after dinner doing our usual work on the book. We are sitting in such peaceful silence, each of us preoccupied with our own tasks, that I almost jump out of my skin when Peeta snaps his pencil he was using to draw and curses loudly.

I look over at him in alarm and see that he has pulled his knees to his chest and is putting his hands over his ears. He is muttering something quietly to himself and I finally realize that he is having a flashback.

I am instantly terrified. He hasn't had an episode since getting back to District 12 that I know about and I stupidly and naively thought they just became non-existent. I berate myself for being so dumb and immediately wish I had been less selfish and asked him more about them and how they were still affecting him. The fact that he is having one now after all this time being seemingly flashback-free unnerves me. I don't know how strong it is or even what to do.

I watch in horror as his shaking and muttering get worse and I don't know whether to run away or comfort him. I end up tentatively reaching out a hand to lightly rub his back as I whisper his name, unable to turn away from him in a moment of need, even if there is a chance he could attack me at any moment.

The second my hand touches his back it's like I set him off. He flings his arm out and immediately pushes me away grabbing onto my arm in vice grip as he growls, "Stop!". I meet his eyes and see the mixture of anger, pain, and most of all confusion.

I try not to whimper as my arm throbs from the pain of how hard he is grabbing it. I know he isn't so far gone into the flashback that he wants to seriously injure me. I can see it in his eyes that he is in pain more than anything else and so confused he can't seem to think straight.

"Peeta, it's okay, it's just me, Katniss," I whisper, desperate to bring him back to me. "It's okay, you're having a flashback."

After a moment his grip loosens on my arm and he pulls his hand away visibly deflating. He seems to have regained his sense as he mutters out an 'I'm sorry' and takes a few shaky breaths. I try not to rub my arm despite the pain, not wanting him to see that he's hurt me, even unintentionally.

"Are you okay?" I ask after a minute scooting a little closer to him.

He immediately moves away from me and I flinch, hurt and confused. "I should be asking you that," he mutters and I can hear the pain and self-loathing in his voice.

"It's not your fault," I protest not wanting him to beat himself up over something he can't control.

"Does it matter? I still hurt you," He shakes his head and I can see he is not letting himself off the hook for this one. He makes a move to stand up from the floor, "I think I'm going to sleep at home tonight. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No!" I almost yell grabbing his arm and keeping him from getting to his feet. "I don't want you to go home." I say, cringing at how much of a little child I sound like.

"I can't be here," he mutters trying to pull away.

"Peeta, I need you to stay," I whisper, bizarrely and suddenly on the verge of tears.

He softens a little, but I can tell he still doesn't like the idea. "Katniss, just for tonight. I can't put you in that position if another flashback hits. I don't want to hurt you."

"It is not your fault the Capitol hijacked you Peeta," I begin now feeling the emotions swell inside me and tears threatening to fall, "you are not responsible for the flashbacks and you can't blame yourself. I'm not scared of you. I don't look at you any differently. You never treated me any differently when I was barely alive those first few weeks back in District 12. So if you could take care of me when I was broken and in pain I'm going to do the same for you."

I lose my composure and his arms are there to encircle me as I put my head on his shoulder and let the emotions pass. I wipe my eyes feeling silly and stupid but better because Peeta is stroking my back and placing a kiss to the curve of my neck.

"Stay with me," I whisper as I pull back and search his face.

"Always," he responds immediately and before I even have time to consider it Peeta is leaning forward and capturing my lips in a kiss. I'm a little taken off guard at first but I quickly regain my footing and return the kiss with passion. Our lips just brush against each others innocently at first as we taste each other, getting reacquainted with the familiar sensation.

It occurs to me we haven't kissed since the time in the sewers in the capital when he was in the middle of a flashback. The irony hits me as the kiss becomes more involved and Peeta's tongue softly strokes mine. Soon I'm not able to think about much of anything except the feel of Peeta's hands on my hips and how good he tastes and how right this feels.

We break apart just for a moment to rest our heads against each other and take a breath of air. I realize that this kiss feels different than all the other ones I've ever shared with Peeta. It is not in front of any cameras, it is not in the middle of the Hunger Games or set against the backdrop of the war, it's just us and it is real. The feeling of privacy and intimacy and this kiss being truly the first one we have ever shared that is just ours fuels my desire. I bit softly down on his lower lip and can't help but grin when I hear him moan.

I continue kissing him like I could never get enough of him, like his lips are literally breathing life into me, like I'd die if I was ever denied the privilege of doing this. My hands run through his hair and I instinctively push him so his back is up against the base of the couch. I swing one of my legs over his body and straddle his waist. His hands move up from my hips to my back and down again and I'm not sure who is moaning this time, him or me.

That different kind of hunger I felt on the beach during the Quarter Quell seems even more intense now and I'm overwhelmed by how badly I want Peeta. Our lips continue moving against each others in a passionate dance and I instinctually grind my hips into his.

He breaks apart from our kiss and stills my hips with his hands.

He smiles as he regains his breath and composure. "Don't tempt me, Katniss," He whispers with a grin and I blush, suddenly embarrassed by my actions, but filled with a certain pride that he wants me so bad.

"I told you I wanted you to stay," I reply with a smile,

"If I can look forward to more of that you may never get rid of me," Peeta says and we spend the rest of the night before bed sharing soft kisses in front of the fire.

I spend my days at my family's old bakery that I rebuilt with the help of a few original District 12 survivors that knew my dad. They build in return for food and a small wage that I'm more than happy to pay. I convince them to stay on board and they help to run the store when I'm not there.

It isn't long before the place looks practically identical to the old one and it becomes a fixture in town again. The community relishes the ability to buy freshly baked bread or enjoy a decadent cake, no longer just a luxury to a select few.

Towards the end of the day I'm preparing some baked goods to take home to Katniss and tidying up around the shop. I must have been so focused on my task because I don't notice anyone else in the kitchen until I almost jump out of my skin when two arms snake around my waist.

"Hi there," I hear Katniss purr as she plants kisses along my neck and shoulders.

I take a few deep breaths as I recover, trying to calm myself from the sensation of her arms around me and her lips against my skin. Even without the war and the demons she faced trying to recover, I would never have believed Katniss Everdeen could ever be...like this; could ever be so affectionate and open about expressing her feelings. The darkness in her eyes is gone, replaced with a warmth that burns so fiercely I can literally feel it when her eyes connect with mine.

"What do I owe this surprise to?" I ask as I turn around in her arms.

"I got done hunting early and realized you would still probably be here," she says with a smile.

"Well I'm glad you came," I say before capturing her lips in a kiss that we both get lost in. My hand tangles in her hair and I lean back against the counter, relishing at how good it feels to hold her in my arms. Every kiss we've shared since that first one after my flashback has been like this, passionate, intense and always leaving me wanting more. It feels different, but good to have her kiss me this way, so open and not shy at all about what she wants.

We break apart suddenly when we hear the little chime that signals someone entering the store. I peek around the display case and am surprised to see a familiar face: Delly Cartwright.

"Hi guys," she says cheerfully pulling off her scarf and mittens.

"Delly!" Katniss exclaims, and she seems genuinely happy to see her.

An older woman in her late 40s, with the same shade of dirty blonde hair as Delly trails behind her. She is inspecting the store curiously until her eyes find me and Katniss and I can see them widen in surprise.

"Guys this is my Aunt Linda," Delly says with a smile turning to the older woman, "Aunt Linda this is-"

"Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen," the woman finishes for her niece. "I remember the star-crossed lovers of District 12," she says and I can see the swirl of emotions play across her face as she tries to contain her excitement over meeting the couple she had surely seen and heard so much about over the past couple years. I feel Katniss shift uncomfortably beside me and she stays silent, clearly uncomfortable being gawked at.

"It's nice to meet you," I tell her politely, trying to spare Katniss from any unwanted attention.

"Delly, you didn't tell me this was Peeta Mellark's bakery," the older woman playfully chastises her niece.

Delly shrugs and I can't tell if she is either purposely ignoring or not picking up on her Aunt's overly enthusiastic response to our presence.

"It's really just a pleasure to meet you both," the older woman continues and I can see she is being earnest, even if she is too eager. "I was just heartbroken when I heard about you losing the baby," she speaks to Katniss who looks like she's ready to bolt out the back door. "Are you two going to try for more children?"

"Aunt Linda leave them alone," Delly finally speaks up, tearing her eyes away from the pastry section, but she is smiling and I can see that she finds her Aunts prying more amusing than intrusive.

"We're happy just as we are now," I respond diplomatically, not wanting to give her anything to work with.

"Oh, but you two are just so great together," she continues like she can't help herself. "I used to live in the Capitol you know, before I came back to take care of Delly, and everyone just could not get enough of your love story. I actually have a friend who works for the new government, Capitol-District Relations, something like that. I bet she would love to talk to you both, see where you are now kind of thing!"

"Um, I have to go," Katniss mumbles before anyone has a chance to say anything and she heads for the back door before I can stop her.

"Uh thanks for the offer," I smile, trying to still be polite, "but we like our privacy."

Delly takes the chance to change the subject and picks out a cake and few loaves of bread to buy. I stay to help them with their purchase and finish with the food I was baking to bring home. I clean up at the shop and wait about a half hour before deciding to close early.

When I get home Greasy Sae is just leaving and Katniss is sitting at the table staring at the food, but not eating. I strip off my jacket and take a seat beside her, helping myself to the food on the table.

"It was nice to see Delly," I begin carefully, trying to get a feel of where she's at. This is one of the first times since she's gotten better where she's really had to face the past in such a real way. She doesn't respond and I know I'm not helping by avoiding the issue.

"Listen, about what her Aunt was saying-"

"I hate the feeling of being gawked at" she cuts me off and I can hear the fire behind her words, "after everything we went through, all the pain and sacrifice-" her breath hitches and I can see just how strongly she feels about this. "It was real and only you and I know what it felt like and for those people it was just some cute love story they saw on TV. They don't know how much we suffered, how hard we had to work our way back to one another."

"I know," I say placing my hand on top of hers and trying to reassure her.

"I want what we have to always be ours, I want it to be private and special. I will never have what I feel about you be made into some sort of spectacle again," she says with passion behind every word and it's in this moment that I know that despite the Capitol's hijacking, despite the war and everything we lost and how much we both struggled, I love this girl more than anything. I always have. I always will.

"I don't think that will be the end of people interested in the fates of the star crossed lovers," I explain, making sure she understands this won't just go away. "I'm sure Plutarch will be in contact sooner or later, looking for a great publicity campaign or something, but I'll do whatever I can to keep them from invading our lives."

She gives me a soft smile and we lean in to share a chaste kiss. Without really meaning to the kiss quickly gains heat and our hands explore one another. We forget about dinner entirely and I carry her upstairs to bed. The girlish squeal she releases when I toss her on the bed only fuels my desire.

We kiss without restraint, her hands are everywhere and I try and kiss every inch of her exposed skin. She moans slightly and lifts her hips up to mine, grinding against me. I'm painfully hard and I have to pull away and take a few deep breaths to try and calm down, but she just pulls me back against her.

I am throbbing in my pants and I'm sure she can feel the effect she is having on me pressed against her inner thigh but she doesn't stop. Since growing closer over the past few months I see Katniss more and more as the beautiful woman that she is. I don't know if she's quite there yet, but the way her eyes sparkle when she meets mine and the way she kisses so deeply, so clearly wanting more from me, shows me how far her feelings have come. It makes me feel good to see her happy more than anything else and even better that I could have been the cause of it.

"I love how much you want me," she whispers into my ear as she pushes her hips against my hardness.

I literally gasp, scared for a moment I might come in my pants. "You have no idea," I manage to get out as I roll onto my side and she giggles.

"I think we should slow things down just a bit though," I propose and I can see the disappointment in her face, but the fact that she doesn't protest tells me she isn't quite ready for that next step anyways. "If we keep going at this pace, you might kill me," I add and she grins, far too pleased at how she literally has me dying in wanting her.

It's one of those rare days where Peeta and I spend the day at home rather than out in the woods or at the bakery. It usually doesn't happen like this very often so I relish the time we get to spend alone together. If there is one thing that these past few months with Peeta have taught me it's to appreciate the good parts of life because they are earned through the struggle and pain and they can so quickly be taken away. I'm finally learning how to be happy and I have Peeta to thank for that. I savor every moment with him because when night comes and the nightmares shake me to my core with fear and haunting memories of the past I'm reminded of the demons that will never really go away, that will probably always try to tear me down.

We start out working on the book, but soon are too distracted with the other one's presence to concentrate. We share soft kisses and talk about nothing and everything and it reminds me of the the day on the roof before the Quarter Quell. All I want to do is be in this moment forever.

Naturally, we are interrupted by none other than our favorite neighbor and former mentor.

Haymitch knocks loudly at the door a few times and then lets himself in without waiting for an answer.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," Haymitch says as he walks past us in the living room and takes a seat at the kitchen table.

"Not at all," Peeta responds sarcastically and I have to bite back a laugh at how genuinely annoyed he looks.

"What do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" I ask Haymitch as Peeta and I rise from the living room floor and come over to the table to join him. "Did you run out of alcohol and come to annoy us until the next train comes?" I ask offering him a falsely polite smile.

Even after all this time my relationship with Haymitch hasn't changed. We can be rude, sarcastic and curt with each other, but we understand one another better than anyone. Almost anyone, I amend my train of thought as my eyes find Peeta.

"Nope, I'm good and liquored up right now," he grins and from the smell of his breath I can tell he's right.

"I'm here cause I have some news," he announces and then adds, "and a question."

"Oh yeah, and what would that be?" Peeta asks.

"I'm going to the Capitol tomorrow. Plutarch wants to bring me in for something they're working on. And they want to improve relations with the districts. Maybe something about planning the celebration of the end of the war too, I think," he rattles out and he says the words so much like a question that I wonder if he's making it all up because he's drunk. But no, they sound too true, they make too much sense to be the ramblings of a drunken Haymitch.

"And you're what? Happy to help them?" I question a little skeptically.

"Hell no, I'm perfectly fine here with my geese and alcohol but they're just so damn insistent. And they told me it was either me or you two," he says straightforwardly. "I figured neither one of you would be up for that considering how you two are finally acting like the lovesick teenagers you used to pretend to be. And judging by the deer in the headlights look you both have on your face right now I was right, so I told them to take me. It's only for a couple of weeks and as long as they didn't keep the liquor from me I'll be fine."

Peeta and I sit in awkward silence for a moment, not sure how to respond to Haymitch's selfless act. Even without asking him he is still being our mentor, still looking out for us.

"Thanks," Peeta says and I can see how glad he is not to have to deal without that whole mess.

"Yeah, yeah," Haymitch waves him away, "just take care of my geese when I'm done."

"We will," I laugh and I feel a wave of relief as I realize what Haymitch has sparred us from, reliving the horrors of the war, going back to where my sister died, the glare of the public eye.

"But I'm supposed to ask you something," Haymitch says looking directly at me, "the train I take tomorrow will be making a few stops at a couple districts, namely 2 and 4," he says and waits until this information sinks in. "Thought you'd might like to pay a visit to your mom," he explains as I feel a kind of panic and dread rise up in my chest. "There's another train heading back to 12 to bring supplies in a few days that you can take back."

"I - I don't..." I stutter out not knowing how to deal with what I'm feeling in this moment.

"Well, if you don't want to see your mom, you could go see Gale," Haymitch offers and I don't know if he's being completely dense or is just this ignorant about what this idea he has proposed has done to me. He has always known everything about my relationship with Peeta, but when it comes to my mom and Gale that's a part of my life he doesn't quite understand. "He said he wanted to see you," he adds and I feel like he has just hit me with a ton of bricks.

I meet his eyes trying to see if he's really telling the truth, but despite in his drunken haze he doesn't seem to be lying. "He said that?" I question skeptically.

"Talked to him on the phone yesterday," Haymitch replies nonchalantly. "He's a pretty big hot shot now, practically running the Defense Department with Boggs. He's quite popular with the ladies too, from what I've heard," he grins stupidly.

"Why would I want to go see Gale and his new girlfriend?" I bite out finally letting my panic and anger and confusion over every emotion that has risen up in me at the prospect of seeing Gale again. After a moment Peeta gets up from the table and disappears upstairs but I'm too worked up to notice or care.

It's hard to explain, but I guess I haven't entirely worked out my feelings for Gale still. I know I never loved him the way I love Peeta, but I did love him and he was such a huge part of my life growing up, he meant so much to me and still does in a way. He's someone who has always understood me the way others can't and it feels like since the moment I volunteered for Prim at the reaping and got sent into the games with Peeta our relationship has never been the same.

I try to push away the feelings of anger and hatred when my mind wanders to Prim's death and Gale's bombs, but the two are linked in my mind no matter what I do. I never blame him, but I can't absolve him of any wrongdoing at the same time.

"Alright it was just a suggestion," Haymitch responds rolling his eyes at what I'm sure he think is just me being overly emotional. He rises from the table and heads for the front door, shouting before he leaves, "don't forget about my geese!"

I take a few minutes to breathe and calm down, before I realize I'm sitting at the table alone. Slowly I get up and make my way upstairs to the bedroom. I open the door and find Peeta sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window. He turns when he hears me come in and offers me a less than sincere smile.

"Did Haymitch leave?" He asks in an odd tone that masks something I can't quite identify.

I nod my head yes and come over to sit at his side.

He doesn't look at me and I know something is wrong.

"You should go see your mom and Gale," he says quietly.

I sigh, realizing what that little interaction downstairs must have looked like to him. I grab his hand in mine and hold it in my lap. "I don't want to," I explain, "I'm more than happy right here with you."

"Katniss," he sighs and I can tell he's trying to figure out how to approach this subject. "Your mom would love to see you, and Gale...I'm sure Gale misses you."

"I remember the last time I kissed Gale," I hear myself saying before I realize what I'm doing, "It was during one of the last missions before the Capitol was brought down. You were still recovering from the hijacking." The look of complete confusion on Peeta's face makes me falter, but I continue talking, determined to try and make him understand.

"You hated me. You thought I was a mutt and just the way you looked at me hurt so much because I was so used to seeing such warmth and kindness in your eyes," I say and I can tell he wants to say something, but I need to get this all out before I lose my train of thought. "I knew it wasn't your fault, but it still hurt and I was so scared, so terrified that it would be that way forever, that you would never come back to me, never look at me like you used to."

"I think I kind of made myself believe that you were going to be that way forever because I didn't want to get my hopes up and I remember just feeling so lonely. I had lost the one person who I cared about more than anything. So I let Gale kiss me. I let him kiss me because I was alone and weak and just tired of it all." I sigh looking up into Peeta's eyes. He is looking at me with a hundred questions on the tip of his tongue, but he lets me continue.

"With Gale it was never really like what you and I have. He was a source of comfort, a friend I could depend on. I haven't always realized it, but I know it now it without a doubt. I want you. Nobody else."

He leans in and catches my lips in the softest of kisses and I finally feel relaxed and at peace for the first time since Haymitch walked into our house.

"I want you too," he whispers and pulls me back onto the bed where we curl up against each other.

"Are you positive you don't want to see either of them?" He asks, and I know that if I were to change my mind he would happily send me off with his blessings because he only wants what will make me happy.

"I'm sure," I reply taking a deep breath, "maybe sometime in the future, but not right now. Right now I'm happy right where I'm at."

"Me too," he agrees and we spend the rest of the day in each other's arms.

I don't know how it happened.

I feel like there was a stretch of time where I felt at peace and all I had to do was steal a kiss from Peeta or spend the whole day in the woods to really be happy. Sure, there was still the pain and struggle from the past I carried around with me, but it felt more like a scar; a mark that would always be with me, but that I didn't have to let define me.

It started a few days ago. I woke up from a nightmare without the usual terror and shaking and crying that so often accompanies my more horrific dreams. I woke up from a nightmare with this overwhelming sense of sorrow I just could not shake. This kind of depression wrapped itself around me and will not let go. I can not stop thinking about every single person that I have loved and lost, every person who died as a result of the war. I can focus on nothing but the pain and grief; it's unbearable.

The first day I didn't go hunting Peeta didn't think too much about it. He simply kissed me on the cheek and left for the day at the bakery. The next day when I wouldn't even get out of bed he tried to ask me what was wrong, but soon gave up after receiving no response. Over the next several days things didn't get much better.

I hate feeling like this, but I just cannot make it go away. I feel so lost, like I have no purpose or sense of self. It feels like I'm drowning and the worst part is that in the back of my head I can hear that small voice telling me to fight, telling me to get to the surface, but I can't do it, I'm just not strong enough.

After more than a week of this I can start to see the effect it is having on Peeta. I can tell he is trying to be patient and supportive of me, but he can only take so much. Seeing me in pain hurts him too and shutting him out only makes things worse.

I sigh, looking up at the ceiling in bed. It is still early morning and Peeta is fast asleep, breathing deeply beside me. Despite the small distance that separates us it feels much larger. There has been such a disconnect between the two of us lately and I feel so empty without him. I miss the small pleasures, like how his smile can ease all my worries or how his lips can erase any doubt or pain from my mind.

I want so much to be okay again because he doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve a girl who can't return all his love and passion in full force. I hear him stir slightly beside me and I immediately shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I cringe at what an awful person I am, but I don't want to face another morning confrontation with him, we've already been having too many of those lately.

He wakes up and I freeze, trying not to betray the fact I'm awake. He scoots closer to me on the bed and hovers over my body. I'm scared to move a muscle and I wait for him to get out of bed and jump in the shower. Instead he places soft kisses on my forehead and nose and across my cheeks and it feels so impossibly good I can't help but to sigh.

He must think it's just an instinctual reaction in my sleep though because after a moment he does slide out of bed and I hear the water running in the shower moments later. I stay in bed listening to the rhythmic sound of the water and let my mind wander. Not long after he is back in our room getting dressed and he slips down the stairs and out of the house before I even have time to consider it.

I roll over in bed and try to deal with the fresh feelings of guilt that have appeared this morning. If I could just be better and stronger and less selfish I could be the kind of person Peeta deserves to be with.

I fall back asleep wishing I was half the person Peeta is.

It feels like seconds after my eyes close I'm startled awake by a hand on my shoulder.

When I come to I recognize Greasy Sae at my bedside with a look of concern.

"What is it?" I mumble out, still half asleep.

"It's Peeta. It's not good. You need to get down to the bakery," she explains and the words are barely out of her mouth before I literally jump out of bed, throw on the closest pieces of clothes I can find and leave the house in a full-on sprint.

I suddenly have the odd sensation of being somewhere and I don't remember how I got there.

I am curled up in a ball on the floor the bakery. There is flour everywhere. The ovens are opened. There are pots and pans and measuring cups thrown across the room, scattered on the floor. I am just slowly regaining the sensation of being present in my body and aware of who I am. I feel a dull, throbbing pain on the back of my left hand and along my right side, down my torso. My knee seems to have twisted the wrong way too.

I shift uncomfortably trying to remember what the hell just happened when I hear the voice that instantly calms me down.

"Peeta? Peeta? Oh my god," I hear her voice getting closer as I note the tone of panic. I look up as I see Katniss making her way towards me from across the kitchen. She sinks to her knees as she reaches me and I close my eyes at the feel of her hand pushing the hair away from my face.

"Are you okay? What happened?" She asks sitting down beside me and taking my hands in hers to inspect the damage I've done.

"I was just trying to figure that out myself," I respond, swallowing thickly as I close my eyes and try to concentrate. Small flashbacks start to come back to me and I can pretty much guess that I must have had another flashback, and a bad one at that.

The last thing I remember was taking fresh loaves of bed out of the ovens and putting a new batch in. I remember thinking about Katniss and how worried I've been over the state she's been in for the past week and a half. I must not have been paying attention to what I was doing and made a mistake. The burns on my hand and side are proof enough. I must have just lost it after that and turned the place upside down. The combination of pain and thoughts of Katniss can sometimes trigger flashbacks, but this was the worse I've had since I can remember and it unnerves me that I could do this much damage just from one bad episode.

"You must of had a flashback," Katniss announces breaking me from my train of thought. "You hurt yourself pretty bad," she adds lifting up my shirt slightly to inspect the burn on my side.

"I'm okay," I mumble, ashamed and embarrassed that she has to see me like this.

"Come on, let's get you home," she says helping me to my feet and bringing me over a chair to sit down on when I can't put much weight on my knee.

As she tries to bring some order back to the bakery I try to hold back the feelings of anger and self-loathing that overcome me whenever I have a flashback. The thought that the Capitol has turned me into this monster, this former shell of myself, makes me sick. The fact that Katniss has to see me like this, has to endure my unstable fits of rage in a moments notice, is almost more than I can handle.

She finishes tidying up around the kitchen and getting the bakery back to an acceptable state and I'm too weak to protest or offer to help. When she's done she helps me up from the chair and aids me on our walk home. When we get home she sits me at the kitchen table and I don't realize until she's applying ointment to the cuts and burns on my skin that she's being my healer. I give her a small smile of appreciation as our eyes meet.

"Are you hungry?" She asks tentatively and I shake my head no in response.

She nods and I can feel her timidness as she shuffles awkwardly around the kitchen, cleaning up. The sun is just starting to set and I still can't shake that hollow, angry feeling I get after a flashback when I'm reminded of the Capitol's poison that still lives inside me.

She fusses around the kitchen without much purpose and I sit stoically at the table with no energy to move or do anything. Finally she puts a few plates of food on the table and sits beside me. "You should really eat," she says gently, "it'll make you feel better."

I shrug and attempt to force a few bites down to appease her, but I can barely stomach it. After dinner she cleans up and helps me up the stairs to our room. Instead of leading me over to my side of the bed though she directs me to the bathroom.

"I think you need to take a cold shower," she says and she won't even meet my eyes. "It will help with the pain from the burns," she explains still looking anymore but at me.

"Sure," I agree figuring the cold water will feel good against the raw skin.

She leads me into the bathroom and I lean against the counter as she turns on the water for the shower. I look up at her a little helplessly, hoping she sees I'm a bit at a loss at the moment. She seems to understand after a moment and she slowly and gently helps me remove my shirt, taking extra care with the burn on my side. It's not until she reaches down to my pants and slides down the zipper that I'm fully aware of her hands on my body, her closeness, the gentle way she tugs the material down my hips.

I suck in my breath as she stands up and looks me in the eye. There is only the thin material of my boxers separating my naked body from her now. She looks away shyly and I'm instantly reminded of that day in The Games when she found me in the river and cleaned me up. I try and spare her the embarrassment and attempt to rid myself of my boxers and make it to the shower. The burn on my side makes it too hard to bend over though and my twisted knee isn't helping either.

I look up at her hopelessly, "Um, sorry, but I kind of need your assistance."

She is hesitant, but she comes to my side after a moment. She meets my eyes and I can't help a small grin. The action takes her off guard and she looks at me questioningly, a smile playing on her lips. "What's so funny?" She asks.

"You're still so pure," I laugh feeling the tension ease from my chest for the first time in weeks. "Even after everything we've been through you still don't want to see me naked," I say, smiling at the look of shock and annoyance she instantly adopts.

"I'm not that pure!" She protests and I love seeing her get worked up like this. "And I have no problem seeing you naked," she finishes before reaching down and grabbing the waistband of my boxers. She pulls them to the floor in an instant and I think we're both caught off guard because we just stand there for a moment not sure what to do, me totally naked and her fully clothed. Her eyes travel down to the area she just uncovered and I literally see them widen in surprise as she takes in the full sight of me for the first time. I grow harder by the second and I can't really help it because she's standing so close and looking at me in a way she never has before.

She swallows thickly and then finally drags her eyes up to meet mine, a blush creeping up her cheeks when she realizes I caught her looking.

"I'll just hop in the shower now," I say, hoping to spare both of us any more embarrassment because I'm so hard for her and she just saw more of me than she bargained for.

I let the cool water of the shower ease my damaged skin and use the opportunity to try and get myself to calm down. I have to take long deep breaths and try to think of anything other than Katniss and the way she just undressed me and being naked in front of her.

When I get out of the shower I smile at the shirt and pair of sweats Katniss has left out for me to change into. When I finally crawl into bed next to her she is sitting up dressed in nothing more than a night gown, her hair down in soft waves.

We sit in silence for a moment, both awake, a million things left unsaid between us.

Finally I break the silence. "Thanks for taking care of me," I whisper not sure what else I can say.

I turn and meet her eyes and she is leaning on her side looking at me with great interest. "I was a real mess today and you were there for me," I add holding her gaze for a moment before looking away. "Just thanks."

"You would do the same for me," I tell him and I realize that he has been doing the same thing for me for over the past week. I've been drowning in this depression and he's been trying everything to get me to feel better, but I haven't accepted his help. A shame of guilt washes over me and I roll onto my back looking up at the ceiling.

We sit in silence for a while, but I know he's not asleep. I try to work through my feelings, sort out all the jumbled thoughts in my head so I can make him understand. I want him to know that whatever has been going on with me lately is in no way related to him. He's the only thing that serves as a reminder that if I can pull myself out of this mess I can feel normal and be happy again. My brain moves a mile a minute and despite everything I'm feeling I just can't express it all.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out at last, settling for what I think is the most important thought.

He sighs and rolls over on his side, "You don't have anything to be sorry for Katniss," he begins and I turn to meet his eyes. "It's okay to be sad and not feel okay, there are always going to be times like that. I just wish you didn't shut me out. All I want to do is be here for you. I want to make you feel okay again."

I reach up and stroke the side of his face suddenly feeling close to tears. "Peeta you're the only thing in my life that makes me feel good. I wish I knew how to be strong like you, but it's just so hard for me some times." I feel the tears fall and all the pain and sadness I've been holding in for the past week comes rushing out in one wave of emotion.

He holds me to him and strokes my hair whispering words of comfort. He start to planting kisses up the curve of my neck and along my cheeks and when our lips finally meet there is no despair, only passion. The kiss deepens and all I can think about is wanting more of him, wanting to kiss and taste and touch and feel as much as possible of Peeta Mellark.

"Make me feel good, Peeta" I whisper into his ear and he pulls back to meet my eyes and I let him know with a look that I want to be with him tonight, really be with him.

I pull him back in for another kiss and let my hands slide under his shirt exploring the warm skin and firm muscle. My fingers trail their way up his back and I hear a groan escape his lips. The sound of his pleasure only fuels my desire for him.

Before I know it Peeta pulls my night gown over my head, exposing me entirely to him and leaving me in nothing but my underwear. I don't even have a chance to consider being embarrassed because his lips and hands are everywhere, touching, caressing, and exploring the newly discovered area. I throw my head back and groan, wondering how he can be so unbelievably good at this. I am literally throbbing with desire in my center and I buck my hips up towards him, desperate for him to find some kind of release for this passion he has built up inside me.

His lips return to mine and he whispers to me in between kisses, "Tell me what you want." I'm so turned on by this commanding, forceful side of Peeta, I have no problem being made to ask for it.

"Touch me," I plead lifting my hips up to him again.

He reaches a hand down to my core and softly strokes me over my underwear. The friction only causes me to groan even more and he finally rids me of my last piece of clothing. When his talented fingers find the little bundle of nerves I cry out, unable to contain myself any longer. "Oh my god, Peeta.."

He leans down and kisses me and I feel a kind of burning inside me that is unexplainable. Right now I literally AM the girl on fire and all I want to do is to make Peeta Mellark mine. I push him by his shoulders down onto his back and roll on top of him. I want to explore his body, I want to touch and kiss every inch until he is calling out my name.

I strip him of his clothes and kiss every inch of skin I can find, letting my hands roam across his strong and scarred chest. "Katniss," he breaths out but I've already moved down his body to the part I got to see up close for the first time a little earlier. He is so big it's almost intimidating but it makes me feel good that he wants me this bad.

I wrap my hand around the warm flesh and he immediately bucks his hips. I smile and slowly work my hand up and down until I hear him moaning and I can tell that I'm doing something right. I love the feel of him in my hand so much, alive and throbbing, that I feel bold enough to lean down and let my lips cover his hardness. After just a few moments I can feel his body tense and he pulls me back up to him, sharing a kiss before rolling me onto my back.

He hovers above me and we lock eyes for a moment. I nod my head and let my knees fall to the side as he positions himself at my entrance. I wrap my arms under his shoulders and cling to the strong flesh of his back as he pushes inside me. The pain and discomfort is only momentary and I gasp at how right it feels to be connected with him like this.

"You feel...so good," Peeta manages to get out as his hips slowly start to push into me.

I lift my hips up towards him and he quickens his pace until we find the perfect rhythm. I start to cry out his name as I feel the tension building and building inside me. He reaches down in between us and finds that bundle of nerves again and I practically scream as my whole body convulses and my insides tighten around him and the waves of pleasure don't stop rolling through me.

Peeta quickens his pace and after a few frantic thrusts he cries out and then collapses on top of me, his body trembling. I hold him against me, our sweat dampened skin sticking to each other as I push the hair away from his face.

When he finally regains his breath he rolls over onto his back, pulling me into his side.

"You've never done that before," I say drawing patterns on his chest, "Real or Not Real?"

"Real," he laughs and just the sound makes me smile.

"Me neither," I whisper against his chest.

"You wanted to do that with me for a long time. Real or Not Real?" I question again, not sure where this spontaneous need to play our old game has come from.

"Real," he admits sheepishly, "but for you I would have waited forever."

"It was as good as you imagined it," I continue apparently unable to stop talking, but I feel so content and drowsy lying here in Peeta's arms, "Real or Not Real?"

"Even better," Peeta answers without hesitation and then adds, "Now it's my turn to ask a question."

I look up at him curiously and when he wants to know if it's real or not real that I love him it seems so strange and silly to me that I ever doubted it, that I was ever not able to shout it from the roof tops and tell him every single day.

So I tell him, "Real," and capture his lips in a kiss and repeat that word that sums up what Peeta is to me over and over again.

"Real."


	2. Chapter 2

"I forgot how good you look in a dress."

I smile when Peeta wraps his arms around me from behind as we ride the elevator back to our floor.

3 years after the war ended and they finally got us to come back to the Capitol. An event to celebrate the anniversary of the end of the war, a chance to catch up with the star-crossed lovers of District 12, and - the only reason I finally agreed - a real memorial for the lives lost in the Games and the war.

I have to admit, they did a pretty good job. Between Plutarch's sense of public relations and Effie's knack for the special occasion, everything was handled perfectly. A beautiful mix of somber remembrance and a joyful celebration of the present and future.

It was cathartic in a good way. To get a chance to publicly honor and remember Rue and Finnick and Prim, to feel the grief as fresh as if it happened yesterday, but the knowledge that they are not forgotten, that we are moving on with our lives to honor theirs.

My eyes close, feeling the effects of the day's events finally taking their tole. From the early wakeup call, to the hours of prep to make me look presentable, to finally all the ceremonies and interviews, I'm only just now aware of my level of exhaustion.

Peeta plants kisses along the curve of my shoulder and I let out a sigh, thankful most of all that he was at my side through everything today.

I know I couldn't have done it without him.

We step off the elevator onto our floor and walk down the long maze of hallways towards our room. Peeta grabs my hand in his and takes the lead.

His level of eagerness to get back to the room suggests he has something in mind when we get back.

We come to a stop at an intersection of three different hallways. We pause and look around for a moment unsure.

"Is it this way or that way?" I question wondering why they would make such complicated floor plans, but seeing as it's the Capitol's only real hotel left they have a lot of rooms to accommodate.

Peeta wanders a few steps down one hallway and I turn to inspect the opposite one, trying to remember our room number.

Instead I come face to face with someone I haven't seen in over 3 years.

"Gale," I mumble in such a state of shock I'm literally incapable of doing nothing but stare at him.

"Katniss," his eyes widen in surprise as he takes in the sight of me.

I only now register the blonde hair girl attached to his arm as they struggle to open the door to their room. Finally he gets it open and he shares a look with the girl before he tells her he'll be there in a moment and she walks into the room without another word.

He looks at me for a long moment. We both kind of just stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time, taking in the familiar sight of someone who used to mean so much, but is now nothing more than a memory.

Finally, I hear Peeta headed back towards us and I snap out of whatever stupor I'm in.

"Hey I found it, we're room 811," He says, but when he takes in the sight of Gale and I simply staring at one another, the bizarreness of the situation makes him go quiet.

"Gale, man, how are you?" Peeta regains his bearings quicker than any of us and he steps forward to offer Gale his hand.

Gale excepts it and they share quick small talk that I'm thankful for because it lets me clear my head.

"Alright, well I'm heading to bed," Peeta says as comes back towards me, "I'll give you guys a chance to catch up." He wraps an arm around my waist, before pressing a kiss to my temple and then disappearing.

I swallow nervously, not sure where to even start, but Gale takes care of that for me.

"How are you?" He asks and it seems very genuine, it really seems that he wants to know that I'm okay and happy with the life I've chosen for myself.

"Good," I reply and I know it sounds lame, but it's the truth, "Really good," and I try to give him a smile to let him know that I am happy with how everything turned out.

"That's great, Katniss," he says and I can't help but note the omission of the old nickname, "and you and Peeta..."

He trails off, leaves it out in the open for me to fill him in on the details. There's no jealously there, just simple curiosity, and it feels like so many lifetimes ago that there was ever anything romantic between us.

I don't know what to say, how to express what my relationship with Peeta is now so I just say, "Yeah...and you and...?" I trail off, but I nod my head to the closed door of his hotel room.

He looks back at me and just shrugs, saying more in a simple gesture than he ever could with words, but I don't want to push him.

"So what's it like in District 2?" I question him, suddenly very curious about what his life has been like during all this time we've been apart.

"Different...what's life like back in 12?" He replies with a hint of a smile, like he's teasing me, like we're kids again and I'm just that younger girl that tagged along with him in the woods. "Still hunting?"

"Yup," I laugh and I can't help but feel how good it is just to talk to him, to feel like we're just friends and hunting partners again, "keeps me busy...and sane."

He looks away for a moment, suddenly shy and unsure of himself and I'm confused until he speaks up. "You did a good job today, with everything, the ceremonies and interviews. I know that probably wasn't easy."

I shrug, not wanting to bring up any mention of the war or memories that could taint this moment, this simple reunion between old friends. If we bring up the war my mind will go to Prim and then to the bombs and I decided a while ago I don't want to hate Gale for that, no matter if he did hold any fault or responsibility. I don't want to let the person I grew up with, the person I cared about for so long, act as some sort of scapegoat for my sister's death.

Circumstances aren't important, it hurts all the same and I have to work hard every day to remind myself to focus on her life, not her death. To focus on the duck tail and that stupid cat of hers and the goat and her healing hands.

After a moment I gain my composure and shoot him a shaky smile. "It was really good to see you Gale."

He nods and I'm the one who moves forward to initiate the hug. It lasts maybe a couple of seconds and if feels right. It's not awkward, there is no tension, it's just me and Gale again, like it was for so long.

"You too, Catnip," he returns with a smile and we part ways.

I get back to our room and see that Peeta has left the door ajar for me. I come into the room to see him sitting up in bed in only a t-shirt and his boxers, reading something under the nightlight. He puts it down the second he sees me.

"Hey," he says and I can tell he's searching me for any indication that I'm mad or happy or upset or whatever.

"How was that?" He questions tentatively as I make my way over to his side of the bed and turn so my back is facing him.

Lifting my hair up, I expose the back of my dress. "Unzip please," I request and when he obliges I respond, "You know, it was surprisingly...not awkward."

When he's done I push the heavy material of the dress past my hips and to the floor where I step out of it and kick it aside carelessly.

I remove my bra as I move across the room to search my bag for my nightgown. Peeta, as always, and despite over 3 years of being intimate with one another, seems to be in a trance at the sight of me topless.

I never could have imagined being this open and comfortable with someone, but with Peeta it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

"That's good," Peeta comments after a while, and I can tell he is deciding to not push anything, to let me speak on the matter and tell him about it as much as I see fit.

I finally slip on the sheer nightgown and crawl into bed by his side. I wrap my arm across his chest as my head finds it's usual spot on his shoulder.

"It was good," I agree as Peeta turns off the nightlight, leaving us in just the darkness of the room to talk before bed like we do almost every night. "It was good to just see him and talk to him again. It's weird that it's been so long. It's like I almost didn't realize I missed him until I saw him."

Peeta doesn't say anything for a while and then finally speaks up, "Funny that his room is right around the corner...wonder who planned that out."

"It is weird," I laugh, "his room is practically on the other side of this wall," I add, thinking how with being the first rooms in different hallways, our rooms are kitty corner from one another.

"I was expecting to see him some time today during the ceremonies or interviews," Peeta says stroking my arm up and down, "when I didn't see him I figured his job in 2 kept him from coming."

"Yeah," I agree, feeling my body start to relax as the sound of Peeta's voice and his warm body feel like the absolute best thing in the world after the day's events.

He suddenly rolls me onto my back as he hovers above me. "You're not about to go to sleep on me, are you?" He questions with a small grin.

Yes, but I'm not about to admit that to him. I notice the mischievous glint in his eyes and I can tell exactly what he has in mind.

"Why? Do you have any ideas for what we could do besides sleep?" I question innocently, and Peeta laughs as he captures my lips in a kiss.

"Yup, let me show you," he whispers into my ear and he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down my neck and across my chest.

He strips away the flimsy material of my nightgown and takes my breast in his hand. I gasp when his mouth goes to my nipple and he pushes his hardness against my center.

"Peeta," I moan and reach out for him, but he shakes his head 'no' and grabs both my hands in one of his and keeps them in place, together above my head. His other hand moves down between my breasts, down my stomach, and slips inside my lace underwear where his oh-so-talented fingers work their magic.

I'm panting and squirming on the bed as the combination of not being able to move and my hands being pinned down magnify the pleasure I'm feeling.

He finally rids me of my underwear and strips off his remaining clothes and I prop myself up onto my elbows. He sits on his knees as best he can with his bad leg, most his weight on one side. He takes a hold of my hips and tilts them up towards him as he pushes his hardness into me.

He starts off slow, pulling out and pushing in, but his pace eventually quickens until the point I'm grasping at the bedsheets and screaming louder than any other time we've made love. His thrusts are so strong and just the right pace and he's going so deep. I'm calling out his name over and over again, feeling the tension build and build and build until I can literally take no more. My head explodes and my insides clench around him as waves of pleasure leave me incapacitated on the bed.

He lies on top of me, dead weight and sweaty, as he recovers, his head cradled between my breasts. I can do nothing but stroke his back, so satisfied and content I have this dumb smirk on my face as we hold each other.

"That was amazing," I finally whisper and I just feel Peeta smile against my skin.

I relive the love making, how it felt uniquely different from all the other times Peeta and I have been together. I decide there was a little bit of an edge to it. It was passionate...and rough. Not in a bad way, Peeta doesn't have it in him to ever be harsh or aggressive in bed.

Our coupling is generally always so sweet and gentle, not that I'm complaining because those have been mind blowing as well, but this was entirely different for us. Everything was so intense and hard and fast I'm getting turned on again just thinking about.

Finally Peeta rolls onto his back and pulls me into his side just as he always does every time we finish.

"If I wasn't so exhausted I'd be asking for another round," I whisper into his ear.

He laughs and pulls me closer, "Me too, trust me."

I can't help replay the moments we just shared as my body prepares for sleep. The way Peeta just took over control, how he made my body solely and completely his, the strength he gripped my hips with, the urgency and pace of his thrusts, I start to debate whether I do have the energy for round 2.

There's just something about it I just can't let go and the images start to blend together until I'm finally seeing it clearly. The headboard of the bed hitting against the wall, making me practically scream in the throws of passion, calling out his name over and over.

The fact Gale is practically on the other side of our wall was not lost on Peeta.

I sit on the thought for a moment as I chew it over and really think about it. Even after 3 years happily living together, even though in the end he got the girl there is probably a part of Peeta that will always see Gale as the competition.

And how could he not? Watching the first girl you ever really cared about from a far, not speaking or having any interaction, just seeing her tag along some older kid's side for the longest time is probably the kind of feeling that doesn't ever really go away. Even once the Games happened and he finally got his chance, to him Gale was still a threat.

The thought makes me strangely sad and yet fond of him even more. I imagine if the roles were reversed and there had always been some other girl I had to worry about winning Peeta's affections and how I would have felt. It makes me pull him even closer, so grateful that he never gave up on me, that he kept the faith and that his feelings were so strong.

I want to tell him how happy he makes me, how he never has to worry about anyone else because he's it for me. I want to say that it had always been him, it just took me way too long to realize it, that Gale can't even compare to how much he means to me, how much I love him.

The pull of sleep is much too tempting after the day's events and the intense round of love making however, and it's like someone slipped me some slipping syrup because I'm about to pass out.

I manage to convey the message I think is most important though, before falling asleep. The message I think he might need to hear the most tonight and to be reminded of.

"I'm Yours."


	3. Chapter 3

It has been pouring outside for at least an hour. It is coming down in buckets and subsequently the bakery has been empty for a while. Bad weather doesn't really encourage the town people to wander into shops looking to buy cakes or cookies.

I decide to keep myself busy by starting another batch of cheese buns I can take home to Katniss.

I'm just getting started when I hear the familiar ding announcing someone entering the shop.

When I come out from around the counter I'm greeted with the sight of Katniss in full hunting gear, soaking wet, dripping from head to toe. She is grinning at me like she knows some secret I don't, and she drops her bow before stripping off her jacket.

"Oh my god, Katniss" I mumble as I watch a small puddle forming on the floor beneath where she's standing.

"NIce to see you, too," she replies and moves forward, kissing me on the cheek, before moving past me behind the counter.

I turn and follow her as she moves through the kitchen and into the back room where my office is.

It's about the size of the bedroom Katniss and I share at home. A small couch in the corner, a desk I use to handle inventory and other paperwork, and a wood burning oven that was actually the only thing left standing from my family's old bakery after the war.

Katniss is peeling off each layer of her water logged clothes and tossing them into the corner carelessly. "So are you just going to stand there staring, or are you going to help me?" She questions and I finally snap out of it.

I make my way towards her, never one to refuse the chance to help her undress. "How long were you out in the rain?" I ask as we work together to help her out of the pants that are sticking to her legs.

"Uh since it started coming down," she admits with a laugh. And then, when I shoot her a look of gentle reproach because, I mean, come on, is she trying to get sick?, she elaborates. "I know, I know, it's just that it was so pretty in the woods today. And I was out by the lake. And when it first started raining the sun was still out and there was just something so beautiful about it."

I look up at her from the floor as I help her step out of her pants and I can't help but smile. She has this childlike awe and wonderment in her voice as she tells me about her day playing in the rain, I immediately soften.

"You could have caught a cold," I tell her as I stand to face her, lifting her chin with my hand as I join our lips in a soft kiss.

"I'm fine," she smiles as we pull away. She is standing in nothing but her bra and underwear and her damp, cold skin seems to be crying out for the warm flesh of my palms.

"I just need you to help me warm back up," she whispers into my ear and as I pull her against me I grow hard anticipating all the ways to keep her warm.

We sink to the floor together in front of the oven. I'm planting kisses over her face, down her throat, across her chest and suddenly I'm very grateful for the heavy rain today. The rain that is keeping any customers away to interrupt this private moment, the rain that delivered me a soaking wet Katniss that I got to undress.

She rids me of my shirt, but I'm in such a haze I can't seem to focus on anything but her. I remove her bra, taking her breasts in my hands as she throws her head back and moans. Just as she arches her back for more I move lower. I kiss along waistline of her black underwear and as I finally pull them down her hips I'm not sure I've ever been this turned on from pleasuring her. Her hair is dripping wet, her face and body are washed clean from the rain, and lying in front of the oven, the light from the flickering flames is hitting her face at just the right angle, she looks like a wanton woman. I want to hear her scream out in climax.

I start off slow, placing kisses along her inner thigh and she freezes. I look up and I see her lift up off the floor, eyes wide in surprise. "What are you doing?" she asks and I hear the nervousness in her voice. We've never done this before. I've never done this before. It seems funny, considering how many times we've made love, but seeing as how neither one of us were sexually experienced or knowledgable when we first became intimate, it was just something we never experimented with.

I swallow thickly. I don't know why, but in the moment I really want to taste her, I want to try and pleasure her in this new way. "Is it okay?" I swallow nervously, suddenly wondering if she thinks I'm being crass, "I mean...can I?"

She hesitates for a moment, but then nods and lies back down. I can tell she's nervous, maybe even a little uncomfortable, but she's willing to go along with it. I'm determined to make her enjoy it now even more.

It's an odd sensation at first, but as we both become more relaxed and really get into it I know this was definitely one of my better ideas. Tasting her, being so intimate with her most private area, it's the most erotic thing either of us have ever done.

When she screams and spasms uncontrollably I lie back down next to her, satisfied with my work. I hold her as she recovers and when she's finally ready to go she rolls on top of me with a smile. She lowers herself over me and I'm already so hard it doesn't take long as I grip her hips and drive into her at a frantic pace.

A while later I realize we both fell asleep for a bit and the fire in the oven is slowly dying out and the rain outside is letting up. I pull a blanket down from the nearby couch and cover our naked bodies. I push the damp hair away from her face and she comes to, blinking awake as she gazes up at me.

This moment is so perfect, naturally I go and ruin it.

I tell her, "I want to marry you."

We're eating dinner in silence later that night. After Peeta announced his desire to marry me, I didn't say anything immediately in response. But Peeta, being Peeta, seemed to sense the million emotions and inner turmoil that was raging through me and simply said I didn't have to say anything yet.

And so I haven't.

I've been fighting a war inside my head since he spoke those words out loud. Peeta bringing up the idea of marriage raises every old fear and doubt and insecurity I've ever had about the idea. At the same time though, I can't deny how much I love Peeta and how happy we are together. If he wants to marry me, what good reason do I have to deny him?

Finally, after an excruciatingly long time of silence between us, I speak up.

"Why do you want to marry me?"

He looks up at me over his dinner, half startled by my sudden question and half amused. "Glad you asked," he says, reaching across the table and taking my hand in his.

"I guess I want to make it official for starters, get the papers signed, have a toasting and all that,," he shrugs and my heart melts just a little at the blush that creeps up his cheeks.

I try to smile at him encouragingly, letting him know not to be embarrassed, that I'm just curious.

"But mostly I want to know, I want everyone to know, that this is forever, that we're always going to be together, no matter what happens," He says and my heart is beating at a furious pace and the emotions are swelling up inside me as I try to hold back tears.

"I want that too," I manage to choke out as I lift a hand to his face and cup his cheek, "it's just that..."

I stumble over my words as I try to express how as much as I want to give Peeta that, as much as I want that kind of commitment and promise of him and I together forever, the idea also scares me half to death. It seems it doesn't matter how much time has passed, how far away we get from the war, that person I used to be, determined to keep my self cut off and guarded is still there. The person that thinks marriage only causes more pain and heartache than its worth didn't ever really go away.

I try and express this as best I can, but I can only get out a few words and phrases like, 'my dad', 'my mom was never the same', and 'I don't ever want to lose you'. I dissolve into a mess of tears and Peeta is there as always to hold me until it passes. He strokes my hair and places a kiss to my temple before pulling back.

"I know you're scared," he says with a gentle smile, "with how you grew up, losing your dad, what it did to your mom...it's suppose to be scary though, I think. Marriage is a big deal, committing yourself so fully to someone else..."

I take a few shuddering breaths as I regain my composure. Peeta is always so good at talking me down. His gift with words, how he seems to understand me better than anyone else; he is always the only thing I need to feel okay again.

"But think of it this way," he says lifting my chin so our eyes meet, "what if something awful were to happen to me tomorrow and you lost me."

He sees the panic and alarm in my eyes at just the idea and the confusion over why he would even say such a thing and quickly continues.

"I just mean that you and I, we're already pretty far gone. We live together, we share a bed, I love you just a little bit more each day," he trails off and I can't help a small smile. "If you think avoiding marriage will keep you from getting hurt it's a little late for that. We've given too much of ourselves to each other already."

I nod as I absorb the full weight of his words. And he's right, of course he's right. Peeta is already my whole life. I've given him so much of myself, he has a piece of my heart I'm never getting back. If pain eventually comes as a result of that I'm okay with it, because he's worth it. Marrying him won't make a difference about how I feel about him. It'll only make it permanent and official. It will make Peeta happy and that's what I want.

"You're right," I finally say after a moment.

"Of course I am," Peeta smiles and shrugs.

"I want to be your wife," I announce and he gets that little spark in his eyes and pulls me in for a kiss.

"Glad to hear it," he whispers as we pull away.

Much later that night Katniss and I are lying in bed after a particularly loud and enthusiastic round of lovemaking. Our naked bodies are entwined so close together our body heat makes the covers almost unnecessary. I'm so happy and content holding her in my arms, exhausted after making love and at peace that the girl I've been in love with practically my whole life has agreed to be my wife, I feel myself ready to slip off to sleep.

I'm getting that heavy drowsy feeling right before you doze off for good when I feel Katniss pull away from my arms and turn her back towards me. She curls up on her side of the bed putting a good distance between us.

I pause for a moment, not sure what to make of the action. We always fall asleep holding one another. It's been like that ever since those nights on the train during the victory tour.

After a moment of debating it in my head, I decide to just ask her.

"Is something wrong?"

She sighs and rolls onto her back, glancing over at me. I can see the wheels turning in her head as she decides how to express what she wants to say. My stomach turns a little uncomfortably, wondering what it is that's bothering her.

"Peeta, I should have made something clear before I agreed to getting married," she begins and I'm holding my breath as I wait for her to continue. "I don't want to have kids."

She looks up at me biting her lower lip with fear and remorse in her eyes as she waits for my reaction.

It's not exactly the best news in the world, but I'm a bit relieved it wasn't something worse or unexpected.

"I know that Katniss. You've told me before how you feel about having children. I didn't expect it to be different now. Us getting married doesn't have to change anything," I try to explain, but she sits up in bed and faces me, clearly passionate about getting her point across.

"No, Peeta it's not just that I don't want to have kids. I wont," she emphasizes, locking eyes with me for a moment so I can see the truth behind her words. "And you can't say that us getting married doesn't change that. You want children, I know you do. And if we get married you'll be committing to spending the rest of your life with a woman who can't give you them."

I realize what she's saying is the truth and I'm glad she brought it up because I needed to hear it. It doesn't change anything, kids or no kids, I want her with me forever as my wife. but I need to really accept this is something she feels strongly about.

Taking a deep breath I do my best to try and make sure she understands nothing she could ever say or do could make me not want to marry her.

"You're right, I would like children," I start off, deciding to be perfectly honest, "but I don't want them more than I want you Katniss. If marrying you, if having you as my wife means we'll never have kids, that's okay. All I need is you."

Katniss sighs and I can tell she's having a hard time accepting this.

"You say that now..." she mumbles.

"Because I mean it," I reply cupping her face in my hand. I kiss her softly trying to express everything iI can't say at once: that she's all I'll ever really need to be happy, that as long as she's by my side I don't need anything else.

She doesn't say anything else but curls up against my body and we fall asleep in each other's arms like always.

The next day I can barely keep the dumb grin off my face at the bakery and I feel like I'm floating on air. All I can think about is that Katniss is going to be my wife. I keep getting lost in daydreams about seeing her for the first time in her wedding dress. This unbridled joy of knowing that she will be mine forever is hard to contain. It sounds cheesy, it sounds cliche, but in a way I've been waiting for this since that first day of school when I heard her sing.

The day goes by painfully slow, but when it's finally time to close up shop I can barely stop myself from jogging home. As I enter the house I'm immediately aware that Katniss isn't there. All the lights are off and after calling out her name a few times I'm greeted with only silence.

Katniss is always home before I am. Frowning, I'm at a loss as to what I should do with myself. I awkwardly move around the kitchen before deciding to get dinner ready for when, or if, she does come home.

It's not until I finally force myself to sit down and eat that Katniss shows up halfway through the meal. She is in full hunting gear, but doesn't seem to have any fresh meat with her. She leaves her bow and jacket by the door like always before coming to sit beside me.

"Hi," she says quietly, and I have to push down the surge of annoyance I feel that she shows up so late without any explanation and just says 'hi'.

"Where were you?" I question, trying to keep my voice on an even level.

"The woods," she says and it's like she can sense my dissatisfaction with that response so she continues, "I've been thinking."

This peaks my interest and makes me forgot about any anger as I wonder what she needed to think about for so long.

"I know what you said last night, about being okay with not having children," she starts off and my stomach twists horribly, not liking where this is going. She struggles to find the next words and when she starts getting emotional, on the verge of tears, I shake my head, not wanting her to continue.

"I love you Peeta, I do. I want to be your wife, but the fact of the matter is we want different things," the words come out in a rush as she starts to lose her composure, the tears spilling over.

I slam my fist against the table and stand up from my chair as I shout, "NO!"

We're both startled by my actions, but I'm too upset to try to keep my emotions in check. "You don't get to do this," I say, anger rising up in me like a sick poison. "You don't get to decide what I deserve."

I can tell she is shocked and a little frightened by my outburst, but she presses forward, that determination she always has, flashing in her eyes. "You're right, I don't," she says calmly. "But I do get to make my own decisions and I just can't accept the fact that I would be taking so much away from you, that I would be taking the possibility of children from you."

"You can't just-" I falter over my words, too upset and unable to accept what she is saying to express anything coherent. "It's not fair." I blurt out, getting out the only words I can manage.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, not meeting my eye as she stares at the table.

And I'm so mad, so hurt and bitter over losing something I had at my fingertips before she pulled it away, I can barely function. I don't know what to say or do and I suddenly feel myself suffocating with the emotions of the moment.

Finally, I turn and walk out the front door and I don't return for the rest of the night.

For the first time since right after the war ended I wake up alone in bed.

I feel cold and empty without Peeta's strong arms wrapped around me like they are every morning. There were no nightmares to wake up screaming from, but I would almost prefer the terror over the suffocating sadness weighing on me now.

I feel like crying when I really let it sink in that I'm completely alone. I don't even feel angry at Peeta for leaving. I knew he wouldn't take my news well, I just pray he doesn't hate me forever because of it.

Although it's hard to see right now, I'm convinced that I'm doing the right thing. Of course I knew it would upset Peeta and despite wanting nothing more than to be his wife, it just has to be this way. I can not selfishly take away a future of children from him. Letting Peeta marry me would just lead to bitterness and resentment somewhere down the line when he realizes how much he wants children and that I can't give them to him.

It's not until late morning that I finally drag myself out of bed, accepting that Peeta won't be home anytime soon. I don't have the energy or desire to go to the woods today and after a while I feel like I'm going insane from being in the house. I keep replaying last night's events over in my head and I get to the point I feel so antsy I feel like I'm going to burst if I don't clear my head.

I walk outside and find myself headed next door to the only other person n the world besides Peeta that I still feel connected to. The only person who I can genuinely call a friend and mentor.

I don't even bother knocking as I make my way inside to find Haymitch pouring himself a drink at the kitchen table. I'm surprised he is not already passed out.

"Well, hello there, sunshine," Haymitch says before downing half the glass of whiskey he just poured.

"Pour me a drink," I say sitting down across from him.

"Uh oh," he replies shooting me a wary look. "Didn't you already learn your lesson? This stuff doesn't solve your problems."

"Works for you, doesn't it?" I bite out, annoyed he is treating me like some kid.

"Why don't you save the attitude and just tell me what's wrong," he says pouring himself another drink.

I push down my annoyance at him and give in, spilling out all the events of the last two nights. I tell him how Peeta asked me to marry him, how I agreed but then realized I couldn't knowing I would be depriving him of children, how he walked out last night and hasn't been back since.

He doesn't say anything for a long moment, simply stares at his glass of whiskey that he drinks slowly.

Right when I'm about to snap at him he speaks up.

"And I'm assuming you think you're being all noble and selfless deciding not to marry him so he can still have children one day."

I open my mouth in protest, fury and hatred rising to the surface as I want to rip his head off for being so insensitive, for not understanding.

"Before you get pissed off, just think about it for a moment," he says and then continues, "do you really think not marrying Peeta will make him happy? You really think he's just going to decide to meet some other girl who wants to pop out his babies."

"No," I shake my head, but I falter over my next words, less assured of myself. "It's just that...if he marries me it's like he's completely giving up on the idea of kids and what if in 10 or 15 years he realizes he wants them more than he thought. What if he changes his mind?"

"What if you change your mind?" Haymitch responds and then continues before I can shoot down that idea. "Look," he sighs, staring at his glass as he contemplates his next words, "I told you once that you could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him. Well, that's not true. You deserve him. After everything you two have gone through, you deserve some god damn happiness and you two are the only ones that can give each other that."

I let his words sink in and try to ignore the lump forming in my throat.

"You got a good thing going right now. I see it every day, the love you kids share somehow survived the Games, the war, and his hijacking. If you're lucky enough to have that you'd be a damn fool to throw it away. Peeta is a big boy, he knows what he's doing and if he wants to marry you knowing that you don't want kids, then let him; don't try and save him from himself."

I stare straight ahead, contemplating everything Haymitch has said. I'm doing my best to not let him see how much his words have affected me, but he has always been able to read me like a book. I nod slowly after a while and manage to whisper out, "You're right." I push back from the table and stand up.

Before I turn to leave he stops me and says, "And Katniss, don't let it have been all for nothing."

He sees the confusion on my face and elaborates. "We fought that war for a reason. There are no more Hunger Games that future generations of kids will have to fight and die in. Maybe not right away, but someday you'll realize having children is the only real way to move on; to prove you're not afraid anymore."

I nod and then turn and walk out the front door.

The sun is just starting to set and I'm standing outside the front door of our house trying to work up the nerve to go inside. I pace back and forth nervously, returning over and over again to the door handle, hovering my hand above it for a moment, before pulling away in frustration.

After walking out last night I went to the bakery and gave myself time to cool down. When I finally had time to process everything I immediately regretted leaving. I wanted to go back and try and work things out, but I was too ashamed of the way I left to bring myself to do it. I spent a restless night on the couch in my office instead.

I want to go inside and see her and talk to her and deal with this huge thing between us, but a part of me is just too anxious and scared to handle what comes next. I don't know if I can accept that when I walk past that door everything between us could change forever.

Finally, after deciding I've spent enough time recently not being man enough to face my problems, I open the door and go inside. I walk through the living room and around the corner to find her in the kitchen. Her back is towards me as she washes some pots and pans in the sink.

My heart responds with a hopeful lurch in my chest as I take in her appearance. Her hair is washed and pulled back in one of those fancy braids she used to wear all the time. She is dressed in a soft, cotton, button down dress I only see her wear on special occasions. It's a dark green that compliments the color of her skin and whenever she wears it my mind always seems to wander to how flimsy it looks, how easy it would be to pull it off of her.

I shake my head to clear it of those types of thoughts and clear my throat loudly enough to get her attention and announce my presence. She turns around immediately and when she looks at me I see something in her eyes I can't quite identify.

"Hi," I say quietly, looking away. The sick shame that has been running through me since practically the moment I left the house last night is making its reappearance. I expect her to be furious with me, to shout accusations of me being a coward, to hate me for just walking out on her and leaving her alone last night.

What I don't expect her to do is apologize.

"Im so sorry," she says after turning off the sink and wiping her hands. After a moment of hesitation she moves forward and throws her arms around me. I'm caught off guard at first, but soon recover enough to wrap my arms around her. I relish the feeling of her body pressed up against mine, the smell of her hair, the softness of her skin; I savor the moment as long as possible before reluctantly pulling away.

"Don't be sorry," I sigh dropping my hands to her hips. "You were just trying to do what you thought was right, you were just being honest with me."

"No, Peeta-" she tries to speak up, but I cut her off, wanting to make sure I get across what I've been thinking over all night.

"No, it's true. I'm sorry. I never should have left last night. It wasn't fair to just walk away from our problems and I promise you I will never leave you again." I lift a hand to cup her face and I can see her mind working a mile a minute and the emotions swirling inside her.

"Peeta-" she says again, but I have to finish this, I have to make sure she knows.

"I'm glad you said what you said," I explain pulling her even closer while I try to get out this next part that will be the hardest. "I know how strongly you feel about not having children now and that's okay. In fact, I'm glad you pushed the point because it made me realize you were right. I might have said it doesn't matter, but I do want children some day Katniss. I want a little girl who controls my emotions just like you do, a daughter I can teach to paint. I want a son to carry down my family name, a boy you can teach to hunt. And I'm not ready to just throw that dream away yet. I thought about it for a long time last night and I realized that it's okay we want different things. We're still young, we don't have to worry about those kind of things for a long time." I take a deep breath after rushing everything out in one breath.

I look deep into her eyes to make sure she really feels the truth behind my next words. "The only thing that really matters is that I want you to be my wife. I want you by my side always, no matter what we have to deal with. We'll deal with it together."

Instead of saying anything in response Katniss presses her lips against mine and kisses me fiercely, pulling me closer to her by the collar of my shirt. She pushes against me until I'm walking backwards and we stumble down onto the couch in the living room.

She finally pulls away and we're both breathing hard as she clings to me like her life depends on it.

"I'm so lucky," she whispers. "I am so lucky to have you Peeta Mellark. I've literally spent the last 3 hours trying to make myself look good for you, figuring out what I was going to say to get you to forgive me, and stressing out over whether I could ever make this right again."

She smiles sadly and kisses me softly again. "It took a little help, but I came to realize what you already worked out by yourself. It doesn't matter that we want different things right now. All that matters is that I love you and I want to be your wife."

Her words are like music to my ears and it feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders."Are you sure?" I ask just to make sure she is confident, that she has no doubts.

"Yes," she smiles, "I want to marry you. I love you. That's all I need to know right now. I don't want kids and you do, but that's okay. We can't predict what will happen or how we'll feel 10 or 15 years from now, but whatever it is we can handle it together."

That silly elation that consumed me after we made love on the floor of the back room in the bakery two nights ago when I asked her to marry me, and then again when she agreed, is swallowing me up again.

Katniss is going to be my wife. The thought is enough to make me laugh in delight.

I can barely contain my grin as I pull her against me and capture her lips in a kiss over and over again. I move to plant kisses down her neck and then to her collarbone. I try and pull her dress to the side to expose more of her warm flesh, but I soon grow impatient. I feel myself throbbing in my pants and it might be a combination of our reconciliation and this dress she's wearing that always drives me crazy, but suddenly I want her and I want her now.

It feels like if I don't take her this instant I'll lose it. My hand slips inside her dress to find the waistband of her underwear and no sooner am I throwing them to the floor. She tries to help me with my pants, but her hands are fumbling and I can tell she wants this just as bad. I barely manage to push my pants and boxers down to my ankles before I'm hiking up her dress and pushing inside her.

She gasps as I enter her, clinging to my back as I pull out and push in again. "Peeta..." she moans and it just makes me go harder and a little faster. We build up our pace until I'm grunting and she's screaming, both of us barely able to hold onto the edge before she comes and then I come and everything is perfect.

When we both finally recover enough to function we curl up on the couch, laughing that we were both so eager we're each practically still dressed. I throw a blanket over us and hold her, thinking that it feels different now between us, but in a good way. We're not two kids playing house anymore, we're not putting on a show for any cameras. We're going to get married and it's going to be for real.

When she whispers to me that she's not looking forward to Effie and Plutarch finding out and trying to make our marriage into some sort of spectacle I just chuckle and promise to make sure they keep it tame. She is quiet for a moment before she tells me that the publicity might not be that bad. That she's so used to it now after all these years and there is something she's especially looking forward too. When I ask her what she kisses me and smiles.

"Being Katniss Mellark."


	4. Chapter 4

It's funny how day by day nothing really changes, but one day you can just wake up and everything is completely different. Somehow 15 years have gone by since the end of the war and Peeta and I are definitely no longer kids. It surprises and scares me that so much time has passed. We've been married now for 12 years and I still feel as in love and connected to him as the day of our toasting. It hasn't always been perfect or even easy, but there is never a day that goes by where I don't think how lucky I am to have him as my husband.

We have led a quiet life, settled into our home and routines in District 12. The familiarity and, for the most part, the uneventfulness, has been something that has not gone unappreciated after the tragedy and trauma of our youth. I savor the comfort of knowing what each day will bring.

Peeta still bakes, but it is not his main focus anymore. A few years ago he added a top floor to the bakery as somewhere he could devote strictly to his painting, to serve as his art gallery, and to hold free drawing lessons for the people in town on the weekends. The bakery keeps him focused and his art room keeps him happy.

I lead more of a disorganized life. Some days I'll hunt and some days I'll sit at home all day and just write every thought that runs through my head. On rare days, when I'm feeling up for it and have been talked into it, I'll speak to the older kids at school about the war and the games or if I'm feeling really nice, a rare interview for the government to use for public relations.

In recent weeks however, I can feel something different in the air, like how you can feel when summer is around the corner. It's hard to explain other than the feeling is one I just can't shake. It is the elephant in the room whose presence is hard to ignore. It's just been little things here and there. A comment overheard, something someone does, or a daydream that keeps bringing me back to the same thing over and over again.

A baby.

The most curious part about it though is that none of this has come from Peeta. It's strange because over 12 years of marriage Peeta has never been shy over bringing up the topic of kids and making it clear just how much he wants them.

We've fought a number of times, with loud dramatics that included screaming and crying, that either drove us further apart or closer together on the subject when we finally made up. We've also had long, intense conversations about it that left each of us emotionally drained and with the realization it was simply an issue we'll always struggle with. And throughout the course of our marriage, Peeta making some innocent reference or subtle hint about children has been about as common as sharing a kiss for us.

But as of late he hasn't said a word. It's almost as if he knows I always had to approach this subject on my own, with no pressure or expectations weighing me down.

Bizarrely I think of my mother and how she would probably tell me that with me being 32 now this is just my maternal instincts coming into play. My body's biological clock is more ready than ever to carry a child.

I think that's part of it, but not all of it.

It's been other things too, like seeing how good Peeta is with the children who visit the bakery or his eagerness to always babysit Delly's boys. More than anything it is knowing how much Peeta wants children, how much he deserves them, and what it would mean to me to be able to give them to him, that has me really contemplating the idea of having children.

Even after so much time has passed the idea still terrifies me, and I don't quite know how I would actually be able to handle it, but it does not seem as unfathomable as it once did. All my life the idea of me having children just seemed so far-fetched and unimaginable. Lately however, looking into Peeta's eyes and knowing what an amazing father he would be makes the idea more conceivable.

After a few weeks of this silent debate raging in my head I finally decided to do something about it. Even though I still wasn't a hundred percent sure, even though I still had my doubts and insecurities, I knew if I didn't just bite my tongue and go for it I might always think of an excuse not to. Last week I saw the District's female doctor who deals specifically with these kind of issues. She told me how to end the birth control treatment I was on for good, gave me a pill to help with chances of conception, and told me based on my last cycle what days would be the best to try.

Today is one of those best days to try and get pregnant.

I glance over at a sleeping Peeta by my side in bed. He looks older than that teenage boy I first fell in love with. His shoulders are broader, his jaw stronger, and there is just the hint of creases and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth from the years that have gone by.

He looks so peacefully asleep I don't want to wake him and after a few moments of lying quietly by his side my eyes start to grow heavy and I doze off next to him. When I wake what feels like moments later I find the space beside me empty and the shower running in the bathroom.

I take a deep breath and debate if I'm really ready for this.

In an instant I throw off the covers and head for the bathroom. I may not ever really be ready for this, but I feel confident enough in the moment just to go for it. And besides, I remind myself, Peeta doesn't know I've stopped the birth control, I only want him to know when there is the good news he's been waiting for, and to him this will just be our occasional session of morning sex.

I tip toe into the bathroom as silently as possible and strip my nightgown off. I can see the outline of Peeta's naked body through the shower door and the steam from the hot water is filling up the whole room. I open the door to the shower and slide in behind Peeta, wrapping my arms around his waist, before he can turn around.

"Good morning," I say pressing my naked body to his and planting kisses along his shoulders and back.

"Well, good morning," Peeta returns, turning around in my arms and switching our positions so the water is pouring down over my entire body.

We kiss deeply for several long, lazy moments, clinging to each other's naked bodies as the hot water flows down over us.

"Can you be a little late for work today?" I ask him when we pull apart, moving my lips to his neck as my hands find his hardness pressed between us.

"I think I can make an exception today," he mumbles out and his breath hitches as I increase the pace of my hands, feeling him grow longer and harder.

When I've finally worked and teased him to the point his hips jerk forward instinctually, he groans and pushes me against the side of the shower wall. "This is my favorite kind of wake up call," he smiles and kisses me, slipping one hand down to my center.

After a few moments I'm clinging to his shoulders, unable to take much more.

"Peeta...now," I murmur and he surprises me, lifting me by my hips up against the wall. He pushes into me and is holding me by thighs as he thrusts into me. Through the ecstasy, in the back of my mind I'm impressed Peeta has the strength to hold me like this with his bad leg.

When we finish I sink back down to the floor as Peeta slumps against me. We're both breathing hard and trying to recover as the water starts to grow cold. He finally has the strength and sense to turn it off as we each step out of the shower and towel off.

With wet hair, and no energy to do anything else, we crawl back in bed together. Facing each other, our feet entangled, he strokes the side of my face.

"I love you," he whispers and my heart responds with a pang. After 12 years of marriage Peeta still treats me like the girl he once pined over from afar, never failing to make me feel special or to let me know how much he cares. I know how lucky I am and it's in this instant, it is these words, that quiets all the little voices of doubt and worry that were starting to creep up. I know there is no going back on this baby idea now. We've made love without my birth control. We could have just made a baby in the shower.

"I love you too," I whisper, burying my head into his shoulder, hoping to hide the turmoil of emotions I'm feeling from him.

He just holds me tighter against him and I feel the determination and stubbornness I've always had plenty of flare to the surface. Part of me is still terrified, but I've committed to something and I'm not one to go back on a decision once I've made it. I love Peeta and I want to carry his baby.

And I'm going to do everything possible to make that a reality.

After those few days that followed that morning in the shower I was so sore I could barely walk. I actually lost count of how many times Peeta and I made love during that time. It might have seemed a tad excessive, but I just wanted to give us the best possible chances of conceiving.

The terror and fear of actually carrying a child was pushed to the back of my mind and all I could focus on was being able to give Peeta the news I know he so desperately wants. I kept imagining how it will feel to tell him he's going to be a father and I wanted it so badly it hurt.

I can't deny, other than the sore muscles, those few days were quite enjoyable. I always thought Peeta and I had an above average sex life, but apparently there was still room for improvement.

And luckily Peeta was more than a capable and willing participant to all the extra love making.

He didn't even seem to think anything was that out of the ordinary. Other than a cheeky comment that he was just waiting for Haymitch to come by and tell us to keep it down with all the extra activity as of late, he was more than happy to, unknowingly, go along with my plan.

It has been a little over a month since we first started trying, since we began making love without me on my birth control, and today I have an appointment with the doctor to find out if I'm pregnant. I have spent all morning pacing around the house, an anxious mess, counting down until I would learn my fate. The idea of knowing for sure, of having everything in my life change, and of not being able to avoid the reality of my situation anymore with thoughts of Peeta's joy, is making me so nervous I can barely stand it.

I keep telling myself to just take one thing at a time and not get too ahead of myself. Before I start some grand level freakout I need to leave for my appointment and have the doctor tell me for sure, so there is no doubts, so I can know whether this is definitely happening or not.

And when she says the words out loud it's like I'm in some daze, not able to accept that this is for real.

She smiles and offers me a glass of water.

"Congratulations! You two were made for each other to get pregnant so quickly after ending the birth control."

I can't help but chuckle. Of course I would get pregnant immediately, there would be no chances for doubts or second thoughts.

"Thanks," I reply, trying to come back down to earth. "It's funny, in a way I think I've already known for a little while. I just felt different."

"Doesn't surprise me," the doctor says, writing on her clipboard. "A mother's intuition is a powerful thing."

A mother.

It's those words that echo in my mind as I leave the clinic. I'm going to be someone's mother. The thought is almost enough to make me breakdown. My mind wanders to my own mother, how most of my memories of her are sitting by and doing nothing while Prim and I almost starved to death. All I can think about is every reason why I didn't want to do this for so many years and I want to runaway and hide.

I can't be someone's mother.

The small, rational part of me that is still left is telling me to calm down, to breathe deeply, and to remember why I made this decision in the first place.

Peeta.

I make my way to the bakery and convince myself once I see his face, once I tell him the news he has wanted for so long, I'll be okay. Well, I might not be okay, but I might at least be able to handle this better.

I come around the corner to the back entrance of the bakery and make my way inside, weaving through the supply room and then through his office. I peek around the door that separates the kitchen and the back room and I hesitate when I see Peeta with a customer.

"Hey buddy," Peeta is bent down, talking to a small child on the other side of the counter. "I made these cookies today especially for you. I need someone to test them out and tell me if they're good enough."

Peeta laughs as the little boy, no more than 5 years old, shoves the whole cookie into his mouth and mumbles something in reply. He stands back up and faces the boy's mother, a pretty, blonde woman who laughs and shoots Peeta an appreciative smile.

The woman is familiar. It registers she is the one I always tease Peeta about because I'm so convinced she has a thing for him. She visits the bakery at least once a week and brings in her son all the time because she knows Peeta loves children.

"Thank you so much," the blond woman says, reaching out and touching Peeta's arm.

I have to bite my tongue, anger and jealousy flaring up inside me. I don't want to move or speak up though and betray the fact I've been spying on this little scene.

"It's nothing," Peeta shrugs it off as the little boy takes another cookie.

"You're just so good with children," the woman says tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "It's such a shame you don't have any."

I'm ready to tear the woman's head off before Peeta's reply makes me smile.

"Yeah, but not having kids can definitely have it's perks though." He moves back around the other side of the counter as the woman continues to press the point.

"Do you think it'll ever be a possibility one day?" She asks, leaning forward, and I roll my eyes. Peeta has to be blind to not see she wants to get in his pants.

I can sense his hesitation, choosing his words carefully before he answers. "I'm not really sure. My wife has always said no and I've learned to respect that. I guess as long as I have her I'm okay."

I turn and make my way towards the back entrance, not wanting to eavesdrop any longer. I barely make it home before I dissolve into a mess on the couch. I'm not sure if this is just the pregnancy hormones, but I can't stop the wall of emotions hitting me after the day's events.

It's finally hitting me what this pregnancy means. Besides the fear and anxieties I'm going to have to face carrying a child and becoming a mother, I for the first time, truly understand what this means to Peeta. He really meant it when he once said that the thing he cared about most was having me as his wife. It didn't take away from how much he wanted kids some day, it just meant that if he had to choose, he'd choose me.

I understand the precious gift I'm giving him now. I never had to do this to make him love me any more. I could have kept my stance on children our whole lives and Peeta would never have held a grudge or been bitter about it. Knowing this, that Peeta so selflessly accepted my position on children all these years, calms me enough to realize, other than marrying him, this is the best decision I've ever made.

I've finally settled down enough when Peeta comes home from work later that day and finds me curled up on the couch. He comes to sit by my side and pulls me into his arms.

"Hey, how was your day? Are you okay?" He asks when he can tell that something is off with me.

I take a deep shuddering breath and reply, "Yeah, I'm fine."

He looks deep into my eyes, considering for a moment whether he wants to press the point.

"I'm okay," I assure him, kissing him softly and taking his hands in mine. "There's something I have to tell you though."

His brows furrow together and I can sense his sudden concern. "Yeah, what's that?"

The words start leaving my mouth before I can stop them and in the back of my mind it occurs to me I would have liked to plan this out a little better. I would have liked to make the moment Peeta learns he is going to be a father a bit more special.

"Am I the most important person in the world to you?"

He doesn't even hesitate when he responds, "Of course."

"Do you love me more than anyone else?"

"Yes," he replies resolutely and I can't help a small grin, knowing how lucky I am, knowing that this child already has an amazing father.

I grab his right hand and bring it to my stomach, pressing it flat against the still-firm skin. I look deep into his eyes, trying to make sure he understands.

"Well, that's going to change."

His eyes widen, his mouth goes a little slack in shock, and he is incapable of speech for a long moment. Finally, he manages to stutter out a few words. "Are you...? How?"

"I'm pregnant, Peeta."

The look of shock on his face before is nothing compared to the dumbstruck expression he has now after actually hearing the words out loud. When he finally recovers the ability of speech he pulls me into a hug. "Oh my god, Katniss. Oh my god." He pulls back and kisses me chastely before pulling away, "I can't believe this. How...why...oh my god."

I laugh, tickled to see Peeta struggling over words when he is usually such a smooth talker. "I made a decision a little over a month ago. I stopped taking the birth control and well,...we certainly have been giving ourselves plenty of opportunities to make a baby."

Peeta laughs, still in that state shock and disbelief. The look of joy on his face is surely reflecting on my own. I try and commit this moment to memory, Peeta's unbridled happiness, to hold onto for the next 9 months when I'm sure there will be times I need to remind myself why I'm doing this.

"But I don't understand. How? I mean, why? What changed your mind?"

"A lot of things," I reply, lacing his fingers through mine. "I kept thinking about it. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I guess it just suddenly didn't seem like the worst thing in the world anymore." I stare into his eyes, seeing how he is hanging on my every word. "But most of all it was you. I knew how bad you wanted children, and I just...thought that you deserved them."

He pulls me into his arms, stroking my hair and rubbing my back. When he pulls back he whispers, "Thank you," and then lays me onto the couch so I'm on my back and he's on his side hovering over me.

He cups my face in his hand, staring at me like I created the moon and the stars. His hands drift down to my waist and he pushes the shirt I'm wearing up, revealing my bare stomach. He presses his palm right over my belly button and instantly smiles. He rubs the area softly with a kind of awe and wonderment. "I love you," he says and looks back up at me. "And this is the best gift anyone has ever given me."

He leans down and presses a kiss to my stomach. "I can't wait," he laughs returning his face to mine and planting kisses along my cheek and down my neck. "I can't wait till you start showing. I can't wait till she gets here."

"She?" I pull away and look at him in surprise. "So you've already decided it's going to be a girl?"

He just laughs and shrugs, returning to planting kisses on my face and neck. I run my hand through his hair and take a deep breath, relishing the feel of his kisses and his warm body pressed into mine.

"You're going to have to help me," I whisper quietly after a while, finally allowing the small voices of worry and fear have their say. He pulls back and looks at me questioningly. "I'm so scared Peeta," I admit diverting my gaze from him, "I've never been this terrified of anything in my life."

"Hey," he says gently, bring me back to look at him, "it's okay. We're going to do this together. I'm going to be by your side every step of the way."

I give him a small smile forcing myself to relax just a little. I know I'm going to have to work to remind myself that things aren't as bad as they seem, that everything will be okay, that Peeta is going to support me through all of this.

Still, I don't think that can fully stop the fear and anxiety being pregnant is going to cause me.

It's early June and the stifling heat is making being 7 months pregnant even more uncomfortable than usual.

I shift around on the couch, attempting to get comfortable, but it seems like an impossible task to even just lift my own body weight these days. My thighs are rubbing against each other, my hair is dripping with sweat and my breasts are so sensitive, even the light tank top I have on is agitating.

The past 7 months have been a struggle to say the least. I am not one of those woman who was cut out for this type of thing. I can barely remember the vitamins and pills I'm suppose to take every day or the lotion to use to prevent stretch marks, Peeta constantly having to remind me. I feel guilty over how much I whine and complain about my level of discomfort, knowing that a good mother would embrace it. It's not that I don't feel connected to my child, I just can't get over how it feels like my body has been taken over, how it doesn't feel like my own anymore.

I work to control or at least keep at bay the terror that consumes me most of the time at the idea that this is really happening, that I'm carrying our child, that I am a mother now. It is already glaringly apparent how much better of a parent Peeta already is than me. Even worse, it feels like he is constantly having to soothe my nerves or calm my fears and I feel guilty for the way he has been at my beck and call these past months, wishing I could be less needy.

In addition, my hormones have left my moods and emotions so unstable and volatile, I don't know how anyone stands being around me. And to make matters worse the doctor has just recently told me I need to stop hunting and 'start taking it easy' if I don't want her to put me on bed rest for the last 2 months. The idea is so daunting I cringe at even the possibility and begrudgingly obey, feeling like a little kid in time out.

My temper and annoyance is at an all time high at the moment, between the heat making me uncomfortable and being forced to relax, I'm just ready to snap. I am trying to keep my emotions in check while fanning myself to keep cool when Peeta comes into the room from the kitchen, carrying a tray of freshly baked cheese buns.

"Hi gorgeous," he says, sitting down next to me on the couch, pressing a kiss to my cheek and rubbing a hand over my huge stomach like he always does anytime he is close enough.

I feel an odd combination of annoyance and love; the still rational side of me grateful to have such a loving, sweet husband and the hormonal, crazy part of me convinced he is being sarcastic by calling me gorgeous when I look like hell.

"It is so hot," I complain, shifting on the couch again and mentally hating myself for being such a whiny brat.

"I know, I'm sorry," Peeta sympathizes and he genuinely looks like he hates seeing me in this state.

"I made you some cheese buns though!" Peeta exclaims, offering me the tray, "I thought you deserved a little treat today."

"Sure, I already look like a whale, why not?" I retort before I can stop myself, stuffing a bun into my mouth before I can say anything else. I know I'm being irrational and grumpy, but the normal, logical part of my brain has no say and Peeta is right here to take out all my emotions on.

"I didn't mean it like that," Peeta tries to clarify, putting his hand on my knee. "I just wanted to do something nice and usually whenever I make these you finish them all before I can even get one."

I know he doesn't mean anything by it, I know he is just teasing me about my love for his baking, but for some reason this comment strikes a nerve.

"Thanks. I really needed a reminder of what a pig I am." I cross my arms in front of my chest and look away from him, so angry and frustrated and embarrassed I can't think straight.

"Katniss, what are you talking about? You're pregnant, you're suppose to be gaining weight." Peeta says trying to get me to look at him. "You look absolutely beautiful to me. You have never not looked beautiful to me."

"Then why aren't we having sex?" I burst out before I can stop myself. I'm just as surprised at my little outburst as Peeta is and I realize this has been something in the back of my mind for a while. I wouldn't let myself acknowledge it, not wanting to deal with the doubts and insecurities that the issue raised. I didn't want to even entertain the idea that Peeta just simply wasn't attracted to me anymore with all the extra weight I have put on.

"Is that what this is about?" Peeta asks after a while when he finally gets me to look at him.

I shrug, feeling mortified and embarrassed for admitting this. "We haven't had sex in months and that's not normal for us. I assumed it was because you just aren't attracted to me anymore."

A chuckle of laughter escapes his mouth before he can stop it and when I shoot him a glare of rage he quickly recovers. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says taking my hands in his, "it's just the idea that I could ever not be attracted to you is...well, laughable."

I survey him closely, seeing that he at least seems to be genuine, that he isn't just saying this out of pity.

"I'm sorry if it came across that way, but I promise you that is not the reason we haven't been having sex." He pulls my body into his and drops a hand to my belly, caressing the huge bump. "I guess I kind of just assumed I would have been an ass to try and hit on you when you're going through all of this. Between your back hurting, your feet swelling, and all the emotions you've been facing with this whole pregnancy I just assumed sex would be the last thing on your mind."

I let these words sink in, allowing the calm, rational part of me that has returned to the surface to really process them. It makes sense. Peeta would only be thinking about my needs and what I want through this whole thing.

"Well...it has been on my mind," I whisper after a while, letting my hand drop to his thigh where I inch it dangerously high up his leg. The little jerk of his hips shows me it has definitely been on his mind all this time too.

"Well, let me see if I can help you out with that," Peeta whispers, pulling me into a kiss before leaning me back against the couch. His lips find mine over and over again and then he scoots down my body, pulling off my shorts and underwear.

A strangled whimper escapes my lips the moment his hands find my center and it is at once glaringly apparent how much I've missed his touch. I cling to his shoulders as his fingers build on the tension that I've been holding in for the past few months. He is hitting that nub of nerves with just the right pressure and slipping a few fingers inside me until I reach that point where my body goes rigid, I cry out and then go limp in his arms.

He brushes away the sweat dampened hair from my face and plants kisses down my neck until I've recovered enough to function.

"That's not fair," I mumble, running my hands up and down his back, "what about you?"

He pulls back with a little smirk and then goes to remove his pants.

I see how hard he already is and smile. "I knew I wasn't the only one who missed this."

"Oh, I've missed it," Peeta assures me as he sits back on his good knee and grabs me by my hips. He pushes in slowly to see if I'm ready and then gradually starts to quicken his pace. After months without this it feels impossibly good to have him inside me and when his thrusts get harder I throw my head back in euphoria, wondering how on earth I went so long without this.

Finally, after he has me yelling out in ecstasy and gripping the sides of the couch to hold on, we finish, collapsing into a mess of sweaty limbs on the couch. He holds me against him, my back pressed into his chest and his hands over mine, cupping the bump of my stomach.

"That was amazing," I sigh, feeling like a new person. My head feels clearer, the heat is suddenly bearable, and I feel much more at peace then before.

Peeta just laughs and presses a kiss to my shoulder.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," I admit after a long time of silence between us.

"For the baby?" Peeta questions.

"To be a mother," I explain, letting my fears and insecurities rise to the surface. When I feel particularly close with Peeta, when I'm not being emotionally guarded and I can really feel the intimacy between us, I allow myself to open up to him, to share my deepest concerns.

"I think you're more ready than you think," Peeta says rubbing slow, smooth circles on my stomach.

"You always give me too much credit," I sigh, turning my head back to look at him.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," he shoots back adamantly. "I'm not sure what you're afraid of Katniss. That you won't love her enough? That you won't give her everything she needs? You're going to be amazing at those things. I know you are. I know because I've already seen you do that for the people you care about."

I can't help a small smile when Peeta refers to the baby as a girl. We still don't know for sure, but he has made it known more than once he just has a feeling about it. As I process his words my mind immediately goes back to my sister and then Rue. I may not have been able to protect them entirely, but I did do as much as I possibly could. I loved them with everything I had.

I allow him to win this one for now and concede he might have a point. I feel so content and happy in his arms after our love making I let myself see the truth in his words and let them to console me for the moment.

I don't say anything for a while and then finally grab his hand and bring it to my lips. I press a kiss to his palm and tell him I love him before I feel too drowsy to stay awake any longer and I drift off to sleep in his arms.

The second labor is over I can barely remember any of it, not the screaming or crying or unbelievable pain. It all becomes a blur the moment I hear those wails of my newborn baby. I collapse back into bed in relief and Peeta is instantly by my side, crying, cupping my head in his hands, whispering that we have a daughter now.

I only have the energy to smile and grab onto one of his hands with as much strength as I can muster, hoping he understands I don't want him leaving my side. After cleaning her off and wrapping her in blankets the nurse hands me our daughter. The moment she is in my arms I start crying, looking down into her blue eyes, so much like her father's.

The joy of holding her, something Peeta and I created, is overwhelming. I am so deliriously happy it seems bizarre to me that I was ever afraid, that I once didn't want this. She is absolutely perfect and it hits me with my usual sense of stubbornness and determination that I will always do everything I can to protect her, to care for her, and to make sure she knows how loved she is.

"She's perfect," Peeta whispers as she reaches out and makes a fist around his index finger.

"You want to hold her, daddy?" I ask and when he takes her in his arms I see how she gazes up at him in wonder.

I know the feeling.

I start to feel my eyes drifting shut and as much as I want to stay in this moment forever my body is demanding a rest after all the work it has just done. I'm fast asleep moments later.

When I wake up later I hear the sound of two voices attempting to speak quietly and I'm not sure how much time has passed. I barely open my eyes and peek around the room where I see Haymitch and Peeta in the corner. Haymitch is seated in a chair, leaning forward and mumbling nonsense to our daughter in his arms.

I take a second to regain my bearings and remember that I'm already at home. WIth all the spare bedrooms we have Peeta decided to bring the doctor to us when the time came for me to give birth. He set up a room with all the necessary equipment and had the doctor and nurses on call, determined to make it as easy and stress-free on me as possible.

"She's absolutely perfect," I hear Haymitch whisper, still entranced by our daughter. "She's got your eyes, you know," he says to Peeta.

Peeta just smiles as Haymitch stands up and transfers her back into his arms.

"Well, anytime you two need a babysitter I'm up for the job. Just give me enough notice to sober up," he cracks, patting Peeta on the shoulder.

"Thanks," Peeta laughs, unable or unwilling to look away from our little girl.

"I'll give you guys your privacy," Haymitch announces, slipping out the door in an instant.

Peeta barely notices his absence and continues looking down at our daughter in awe.

"She loves being in your arms," I speak up, my throat dry and scratchy. "I can already tell. She just goes completely still when you hold her."

Peeta grins, coming over to sit by my side on the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asks reaching out with one hand to grab mine. "You were amazing."

"I'm fine," I shrug, not feeling particularly amazing. Just feeling like I did what I had to do. "I'm just glad she's here."

"Me too," Peeta smiles, glancing back down at her. "We need a name for this little beauty."

I look down at her little face, the only part of her body not covered by blankets or a knit hat. It's the strangest feeling to look into her eyes and see Peeta. She is the perfect combination of the both of us.

She yawns and lets her eyes drift shut.

"Let's get to know her first," I say and Peeta nods silently in agreement.

After a moment, when it becomes clear she is fast asleep in his arms, Peeta looks up at me. "You think you have the strength to come with me? I want to show you something."

"Yeah, I can try," I say, pulling off the covers and slowly lifting myself out of bed. I go extremely slow at first, my body still sore and worn down from labor, but I'm able to function enough to walk after a moment.

I follow Peeta out of the room and down the hallway. He walks past our bedroom door to the room next to it, the one he has been working on turning into a nursery for the past 9 months. He stops at the door and waits for me, smiling before slowly pushing it open and allowing me to go inside first.

I'm immediately blown away because the dark, barren room I was so accustomed to has been transformed. I wasn't sure what to expect, but in being so insistent that I never lifted a finger while pregnant, Peeta has managed to turn this room into a beautiful nursery all on his own. The crib, the rocking chair, the changing station, everything is perfect. But the part that really blows me away, the part that almost brings me to tears is the artwork he has created on the walls.

The walls are a soft beige color that Peeta has used as the base for his masterpieces. On one side there is a beautiful sunset peeking through the mountains and forest, glowing in shades of orange and red and pink. On the wall next to the crib there is a meadow, not just any meadow, but the one out by the woods, alive with birds and flowers. Above it he has written the words above it that have never meant as much to me as they do now as a mother.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daises guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

"It's so perfect," I tell him, going into his arms after he puts the baby in her crib. "I love it."

He doesn't say anything at first, just pulls me closer against him. I run my hand through his hair, relishing the ability to be more intimately pressed up against him than I have been in months. I'm pressing kisses along his shoulder and neck when he pulls away.

"Thank you," he says cupping my face in both of his hands. "Thank you for going through labor, thank you for enduring the last 9 months, thank you for changing your mind."

"I should be thanking you," I tell him, not feeling like I deserve this kind of praise. "I never would have changed my mind if it wasn't for you. I never would have had a reason to want this if you didn't want it so badly." I take a moment and try and control my emotions. I may not be pregnant anymore, but I still feel as emotionally unstable.

I take the chance to glance down at our sleeping daughter in her crib. A kind of sick shame hits me in the gut when I think about how I acted before. I think about how I was so selfish, how I was so scared of this day, how I actually did not want this for the longest time. "If it wasn't for you," I tell Peeta, feeling the tears ready to fall, "if it wasn't for you she wouldn't be here."

I break down into a mess in his arms and he just holds me against him, understanding everything without me having to say a single word.. He rubs my back until I've calmed down enough and then whispers into my ear, "She's here now, that's all that matters."

I smile and kiss his cheek, turning around in his arms as he holds me from behind so we can both look down at our sleeping daughter. After a while my body starts to protest from being on my feet too long and Peeta leads me back into our own bedroom. I crawl into bed, instantly feeling better at the chance to rest.

"You were amazing today," Peeta mumbles into my shoulder as we lie facing one another in bed. "I knew labor wasn't easy, but you were so strong..."

"I don't really remember any of it," I admit, feeling my body prepare for sleep, "I mean, I knew it hurt a lot, but my first clear memory is hearing her cry for the first time."

"Kind of the same for me," Peeta agrees, "I hated seeing you in pain, but I guess it was worth it at the end of the day. She was worth it..."

"I'm glad I've been through it now though," I yawn, unable to keep my eyes open much longer. And then I say something that I know catches Peeta off guard, but in a good way that makes him cling to me a little tighter and press a kiss to my shoulder. I can't help it though and seeing how it just slipped out, there is obviously some real truth behind the words.

"It will make the next time a little easier."


	5. Chapter 5

I wake to the sound of a pencil scratching against paper.

Repetitive, gentle, familiar strokes of a writing utensil against the rough surface of parchment bring me into consciousness. I take in my surroundings - the light and warmth of the morning sun peeking in through the open window, the sheet that barely reaches my waist, the sheer, see-through night gown I wore to bed last night as my only article of clothing because of the heat wave we've been experiencing - all of them noted before I even open my eyes.

When I finally peek one eye open I'm greeted with the sight of my husband sitting on a chair at the side of our bed, his back to the window. His ankle is crossed at his knee with a large notepad on his lap. He is in deep concentration, using the pencil in his hand to transfer the image floating around in his head to the paper in front of him. He continues working, not yet picking up on the fact I'm awake yet and it dawns on me that he hasn't taken his eyes off of me, that I am what he is drawing.

Instinctually I make a move to sit up, but I barely move an inch before his gentle voice stops me.

"No, please," Peeta says softly, "I'm almost done."

Reluctantly I oblige his wishes and remain in the position I woke up in, feeling my cheeks redden as I become more aware I'm the object of his fascination.

"Don't be shy Mrs. Mellark," Peeta quips and I can hear the amusement in his voice. "You are beautiful...and I do love when you go to bed in that nightgown and nothing more."

I can't help but laugh, squirming underneath the sheets and taking a peek down at my chest. The morning light is bathing my body in a warm glow and underneath the thin material of my nightgown the two dark circles of my nipples are clearly visible.

"You pervert," I tease Peeta, trying to bite back a grin.

Peeta just laughs and continues working on his drawing. A few moments later I hear his pencil stop as he stands up and puts his notepad on the side table, coming over and planting a kiss on my forehead.

"Thanks," he whispers, cupping my face in his hand. "I got back from the bakery just as the sun was starting to rise and I couldn't not draw the image of you like this, asleep, barely clothed, draped in sunlight."

I smile at his words, sighing contently and joining our lips in a soft kiss.

"Are they up yet?" I ask as he deepens the kiss.

"Nope," he grins against my mouth, "I figure we still got a good 20-30 minutes."

"That sounds tempting," I murmur as he crawls on top of me in bed

"Very tempting," he agrees and his mouth consumes mine, using his tongue to touch and feel and taste me. He moves his mouth down my throat, to the hollow of my clavicle, and across my chest.

He pushes himself against me, trailing his hand from my waist up my side and then gently cupping my breast in his hand. I groan and arch my back, pushing myself into him as he tugs my nightgown down and exposes both my breasts.

"Peeta," I sigh as his lips close around my nipple and his hand massages my other breast. I squirm with desire, feeling myself getting wet as I let sensation take over. He trails a line of hot, steamy kisses to my other breast and repeats the same process, letting his mouth and hands bring me to the edge.

I am panting with desire when he slides down my body even further, pushing the flimsy material of my nightgown that barely reaches the top of my thighs, up past my belly, and shooting me a sly grin.

"Oh my god," I moan as I feel his tongue against me. I buck my hips in response, lost in the feel of my husband tasting me. I grip the bed sheets and try to hold on as he starts to push two fingers inside of me.

"Fuck Peeta..." I whimper, but he only increases the pace of his fingers and the pressure of his tongue.

He keeps working me at a desperate pace until I'm breathing erratically, moaning uncontrollably and feeling the tension build and build.

Finally, I cry out, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through me as my mind goes blank. I am incapable of speech or movement for a long moment and I only regain my senses when Peeta moves back up my body and places a chaste kiss on my cheek.

"I'll go get breakfast started," he says with a smile. "After all, it is a big day..."

Almost on cue we hear her up and about, out of her room and moving around the upstairs landing loudly, talking to herself and making an impressive amount of noise for a 5 year old.

Peeta is gone before I even have a chance to consider it, leaving me to savor the after effects of my orgasm as I attempt to recover enough to function for the day.

I allow myself a few more precious moments of quiet and solidarity before getting dressed and heading downstairs. She is at the table drawing quietly with the pencils and crayons Peeta bought her for her birthday. Peeta is moving around the kitchen, attempting to prepare breakfast with one arm as he holds the boy on his hip.

I press a kiss to her hair and then move to take the boy out of Peeta's arms. He shoots me a grateful smile but before he can return his attention to breakfast I pull him towards me by the front of his shirt, sharing a deep kiss as a silent thanks for earlier.

When we pull away we're both breathless, but our intense moment is interrupted by the boy's loud babbling nonsense that makes us laugh. I put him in the high chair and sit down beside her, watching as she focuses on her drawing just like her dad earlier this morning.

"Are you excited for today?" I whisper and her face lights up, beginning a steady stream of talking that doesn't really let up until Peeta puts breakfast on the table and even then she mumbles through a mouthful of food.

I try to keep up with her excited rambling between feeding the boy but she has so much to say and one thought turns into another and I eventually stop trying to keep up and just take in her pure joy and enthusiasm for her first day of school.

She is so much like Peeta sometimes it's scary. She is bright and outgoing and has no problem communicating what she wants. She's warm and kind and would rather be baking or drawing with Peeta than doing just about anything else in the world. The boy is still young but I see more of the both of us in him. He can be stubborn and determined, but patient and kind when he wants to be too.

After she finishes breakfast she races upstairs to get ready and I send Peeta to make sure she picks a nice dress and socks that actually match. When I finish changing the boy she is back downstairs looking presentable in a blue dress and holding a hair brush.

"Daddy said to put my hair in two braids instead of one. Isn't that a good idea?" She announces coming over to sit in front of me on the couch.

I laugh loudly and freely as a warmth of happiness encircles me and brings back a rush of memories. "That is a good idea," I agree as I begin to brush her hair and she is off, chatting away about how other girls will wear their hair and what her teacher might be like.

When Peeta reappears downstairs I am working on her second braid and I shoot him a knowing look. He shrugs and we share a secret smile.

Peeta is on the floor with the boy playing with the building blocks and stuffed animals that seem to cover every square inch of the living room. When I finish with her hair she joins them and I head into the kitchen to get everything ready for the day.

I stuff the picnic basket with plenty of Peeta's freshly baked rolls and throw in some cheese and berries as well. I go in search of our spare blanket and then decide we have everything we need for our little picnic.

The girl doesn't have to be at school until after noon since it is just the first day and it apparently is more of a welcoming party than anything. Peeta suggested we make a family trip out to the meadow last night beforehand and I couldn't have been happier at the suggestion.

Something to distract from the worries and anxiety over her starting school that have been bugging me for the past few weeks.

I feel the typical motherly emotions of disbelief that she is growing up so fast and melancholy that she will be off in her own little world now rather than spending every moment with us. At the back of my mind though there is more than just those concerns and they are harder to push away.

"You ready to go?" Peeta interrupts me from my thoughts.

I glance up at him with a smile and nod in agreement. It only takes a few tries, but eventually we are out the door, Peeta and I walking hand in hand, the boy in his arms, and the girl skipping happily ahead, as we make our way towards the familiar meadow.

When we get there we lay the blanket out and remind them of the boundary lines of where they can and can't go. Peeta and I collapse down onto the ground and the boy and the girl are off, stumbling through the high grass, laughing and shouting as they embrace their newly acquired freedom.

I watch them play, seeing how he struggles to keep up with her, but is stubbornly determined to do so, despite his short legs and shaky ability to even stay on his feet. The sun is bright and warm, but we are granted a cool breeze on this late summer day.

I take a deep breath, imagining that after today everything will be different. We can't fully protect her anymore from the dangers and unknowns of our world. Not right away, but she'll learn about the games soon and I wonder how that will affect the rest of her life. We'll prepare her for it of course, but we can't protect her from what other people say or do when they know who she is, when they know she is the daughter of the star-crossed lovers.

Peeta tries to assure me it won't be as bad as I'm imagining. Little kids don't gossip and they're too young to really understand the significance of who we are, what we did, or what happened. There might be some overzealous or noisy parents that might care, that might make a scene, but they won't affect her.

I just don't want her to be at a disadvantage because of who her parents are, I don't want us to be a burden she has to deal with. When my thoughts get really dark on this subject and I'm moody and depressed Peeta will gently chide me that we should be grateful these are our only worries, that we don't have to concern ourselves with her name being called at a Reaping one day.

This is always enough for me to snap out of it and get my head on straight.

"Hey, you okay?" Peeta questions tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear and looking at me in concern. I must have been staring off into space for a while.

I flush, guilty for being caught up in these thoughts again. "Yeah, just...you know..." I trail off and after a moment I see the realization in his eyes when he gets what I've been thinking. He tries his best to hide his scowl, but he is unsuccessful.

"Don't worry," he mutters as he places a kiss to temple.

I smile back weakly at him. "Go grab them, we should eat lunch now."

He hesitates for a moment, looking at me in concern before jumping off the blanket and heading in the direction of their loud voices. I pull out the bread and the cheese and the berries and start preparing the meal, enjoying the sound of their playful shrieks and squeals as Peeta makes a game out of chasing them back to the blanket.

Finally the girl collapses down beside me, nearly sitting on the food and yelling in joyful triumphant. "I won!" She declares before stuffing a roll of bread in her mouth. Peeta appears behind her moments later, breathless, with the boy in his arms. "Yes, you did." He concedes and slowly lowers himself to the ground and we all sit in relative quiet, eating our simple meal.

When I'm nearly done feeding the boy mashed up berries and cheese she is back on her feet, jumping up and down eagerly, ready to head to school. "Okay, okay," I placate her, getting everything back in the basket and sharing an amused smirk with Peeta.

We pack away our little basket and head towards the school the same way we walked towards the meadow, her leading the way.

When we find her classroom it is already full with a dozen other boys and girls her age, their parents lining the wall of the room, everyone chatting loudly. She takes off immediately like she is already a teenager embarrassed to be seen with her parents and finds an empty desk near the teacher who greets her and starts talking to her and introducing her to the other children.

Peeta puts his arm around my waist and makes small talk with the couple standing beside us. I smile weakly and try to keep up with the conversation but I am mostly back to being awkward and shy in front of people. The crazy part of me is looking around the room for anyone staring at us or her, whispering quietly.

After a while I start to relax when I realize how paranoid I'm being and then the teacher, a petite redhead with freckles, a little younger than Peeta and I, introduces herself. She welcomes all the children and parents and goes on to explain what they'll be learning throughout the year and helpful activities we can do with them at home.

I finally start to feel a little comfortable with everything, watching the girl drawing at her desk, talking to a small blonde girl with a bow in her hair, beside her. I take in the other parents around the room, all intently focused on their own children rather than Peeta and I. The thought makes me smile until I catch a glimpse of a pretty blonde woman in the corner surrounded by two other woman, one who is very pregnant, who are all staring rather obviously at Peeta and I.

Wait, no they're not looking at Peeta and I. They're only looking at Peeta. The thought makes me frown. I was the deranged Mockingjay, they should be staring at me like I have 3 heads. And then it hits me that the blonde woman is Peeta's most frequent customer. The woman who makes weekly trips to the bakery and spends all her time flirting with my husband.

I grit my teeth and pull him closer to my side, but they barely seem to notice. Oddly the notion of these woman lusting after my husband is almost liberating. I can handle them pining over him from afar and I'll take that over them gossiping about our past or my daughter any day.

Finally, after snacks and refreshments are passed around the room to the children and parents alike, the teacher tells us we are excused so she can get class officially started. Peeta grabs my hand, and with the boy in one arm, leads the way outside, bypassing the women staring at him without so much a second look.

I try and give them my best 'back off' look but they are too busy admiring the flexed muscles of his arm holding our son and the way his t-shirt clings to his broad chest. I can't really say I blame them.

We walk back home in relative silence, Peeta asking if I reminded Haymitch what time she gets done with school today. He usually spends most afternoons with her and the boy anyways so we decided to keep the habit going and assigned him to picking-her-up-after-school-and-walking-her-home duties. The more time he spends with her the happier he is and the less he drinks. It's a win-win for everyone.

It gives us a few hours of peace and quiet to relax and get used to what will now be her daily absence.

When we get home Peeta takes the boy upstairs to put him down for his nap while I put away the supplies from our picnic. I am deciding what rolls to have for dinner and what to save for tomorrow when Peeta reappears in the kitchen beside me.

I am debating if the cheese will stay for another day or so when I hear Peeta practically shouting my name in exasperation.

"Katniss!" He exclaims, looking at me in bewilderment. "I've been calling your name for the past 5 minutes."

"Oh sorry," I frown, surprised and embarrassed I have been spacing out that much.

"What's going on?" He asks, clearly concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I don't know...I just..." I trail off, not quite sure how to explain where my head has been at.

"You've been off in your own little world since the meadow," he says, his eyes betraying the worry he's trying not to show.

"I'm fine, Peeta," I offer him a weak smile and turn my back to him, attempting to refocus my attention on sorting out the food from the day.

He doesn't say anything for a moment and then I feel his hands on my hips, pulling me flush against his groin, his lips immediately finding that curve of my neck and planting soft, wet kisses against my skin. I can't help a small moan when I feel him grind his growing erection into my backside.

His hands move from my hips to my front, one hand spread flat over my lower stomach, holding me still against him, and the other snaking up to my chest, massaging my breasts through the thin material of my dress.

"Peeta..." I breath, tilting my head even further to the side and granting his lips easier access to my neck.

In an instant he stops and leads me over to the table where he pushes me face down so my chest is flush against the counter. I am leaning over the table surface and his hand is at the back of my neck, holding me in place.

Breathing hard, I hear him using his free hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants. I feel my entire body instantly react and I am writhing with need as he pushes up my dress from behind and pulls my underwear down my legs.

He slams into me hard and fast and I cry out, gripping onto the edges of the table as I try and hold on. He keeps one hand at my neck, holding me still as he continues his relentless assault, his breathing heavy and labored.

I bite my lip and try to meet his thrusts with my own response, but my legs feel like they would give out on me if I weren't lying on the table. He pounds into me over and over again and I feel every muscle in my body building towards that ultimate release.

"Faster," I pant and he just grunts in response and continues slamming into me mercilessly.

I whimper and feel my muscles clenching around him, everything exploding at once, shooting intense waves of pleasure through every fiber of my being. I cry out in ecstasy and his thrusts stops as he stills inside me, coming with a low groan and a shudder.

He collapses on top of me and then rolls to his side, each of us trying to calm our erratic breathing and regain our bearings.

"That was..." I trail off, because mind blowing doesn't quite seem to describe it well enough.

"Sometimes I feel like that's the only way to get through to you," Peeta lets the words slip before he can stop himself and I see the guilt in his eyes for admitting this.

I can't help but feel a little like I've had the wind knocked out of me. Part of me is hurt, part of me is angry, but part of me also knows he has a point. I'm hurt that he wouldn't make more of an effort instead of just immediately resulting to physical action. I'm angry that he thinks I'm so cold and heartless that sex is the only way to get through to me. But ultimately, I can't help conceding there is some truth behind his words.

Sometimes I am so in my own head, lost in my worries and fears, that no matter what Peeta does or says, I am trapped in my own little world of anxiety and depression until he snaps me out of it with a kiss or by making love.

I open my mouth to respond and then close it, realizing we are both still lying on the table. I stand up and take his hand, bringing him over to the living room where I pull him to the floor beside me.

"I know," I concede, taking his hands in mine. "I'm sorry. You know me. Sometimes I just get caught up in these thoughts that are hard to push aside..."

He sighs, reaching out to touch my braid and playing with it absentmindedly. "I know," he relents, "it's not your fault. I just hate to see you worry."

I pull him into a hug and relish the feel of my husband's warm body against my own. We are both still almost fully dressed, his pants only pushed down a little past his hips and my underwear around my knees.

"That was a very nice distraction though," I admit, shooting him a small smile.

He laughs and joins our lips in a kiss and when we break apart I tell him, "I do feel better though, I was anxious earlier about her first day, but I know she'll be okay. I'm fine now, really."

He studies me for a moment, debating the truth behind my words, and then decides to accept them, cupping my face in his hand with a smile.

"Okay," he whispers.

I pull him by the front of his shirt towards me so our lips meet in a kiss, pushing my tongue into his mouth and moaning as he returns my passion.

"And now," I mumble against his lips, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head, "I want you to make love to me, slowly and sweetly."

He grins, reaching for the buttons on my dress that he starts to undo with his nimble fingers. "That I can do," he murmurs and we take our time, peeling off each other's clothes until we're both completely bare, lying on our living room floor.

We are lost in a daze of passion, taking our sweet time, savoring one another. We are in no rush and we let our hands and mouths slowly explore every inch of each other's exposed flesh. I chant his name like a prayer as I tell him I love him over and over again, pleasure coursing through my veins.

Every ounce of my being is consumed by this man, my husband, the father of my children. He makes me come twice before I slide down his body and take him in my mouth, claiming him as mine. Later, when he finally pushes inside me I cry out in a whimper, overwhelmed by the fullness, his nearness, the feeling of him inside me. He keeps a slow, steady rhythm, rocking me into oblivion. It's a drastic change from earlier on the table, but equally as satisfying. We come together and he collapses down on top of me, pushing the air from my lungs, our sweaty flesh melting into one.

And sometime during the afterglow of our lovemaking - before Haymitch opens our front door with the girl tagging along behind him, only to immediately shut it when he catches a glimpse at our bodies and realizes what we've been doing, keeping her outside and distracted while we haphazardly throw our clothes back on - I cling to Peeta's sweaty body, running my hands through his hair and whisper something in his ear that makes him laugh.

"I guess her being at school will have it's upside."


End file.
